Eventual Envelopment
by LJlashlarue
Summary: The war is over, and Hermione has reached the end of her rope and let go. Pansy is there when she hits bottom, and together they try and build something new,eventually. Read the chapter warnings, this is sometimes dark and disturbing. Psychodrama.
1. Chapter 1

Author: Lash_Larue  
Title: "Eventual Envelopment" Chapter One of 21

Pairing: Hermione/Pansy  
Rating: PG13 - NC17

Summary: Hermione has had enough of everything, Pansy has had enough of everything except perhaps Hermione.

Warnings: Not much for this chapter, language, violence. Possible triggers later, warnings by chapter, please read them. This story is a sort of psychodrama with very dark elements of several sorts and the language and behaviour is sometimes coarse. Yes, this Hermione is OOC, but people do break.

Word Count: 4900

Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling

A/N: This story was written for a friend who asked if I might be interested in doing an HP fanfic inspired by the poem "Let It Enfold You" by Charles Bukowski. It's harsh, but ultimately hopeful, and I kicked the idea around for a while and discarded the obvious characters, Harry, Ron, Neville, a resurrected Snape, and then fell into this. It starts with the ending, never mind the chapter title. I'm afraid that it's not going to be a nice little smutfic, although it is going to have a deal of both smut and kink. This Hermione is going to be different from how I usually write her. Fed up, burned out, uncertain, and sometimes self-destructive. Pansy is in a similar place emotionally

"Eventual Envelopment"

Chapter One

"Genesis"

I feel it when she gets out of bed, I nearly always do. I pretend to be asleep; I nearly always do that too. I listen as she moves around the bedroom trying not to wake me, hear the quiet click as she eases the bathroom door shut. I lay there in the faint light of dawn, hearing the water in the sink, the faint rattle of the hanger on the back of the bathroom door as she takes down the clothes that she hung there the night before. I hear the muffled swearing when she loses her balance for a moment, the soft thump of her hand on the wall as she catches herself, and I smile.

She is my partner, my lover, my life, and this is my favorite time of the day. It is perhaps my favorite part of life, better than food, better than drink, better in some ways than sex, even with her, and sex with her makes me hear angels singing.

I steady my breathing and keep my eyes naturally closed when I hear the door open softly. I pull the sheet up over my mouth because today I cannot hide my smile as I hear her tiptoe around to my side of the bed.

I feel her staring at me, and imagine the look on her face as she watches me sleeping. It is a look full of love, and longing, and gratitude, and the promise of the future. I know it is, I can feel it, it is the look that is on my face when I watch her sleeping, and I can hear the rustle of her clothes as she bends over me, I feel the warmth of her breath, and then I feel the softness of her lips when she just barely presses them to my forehead.

I wait until I hear the bedroom door open and close before I wrap my arms around her pillow and bury my face in it, breathing in the scent of her.

It is my favorite part of the day, because it is the time that I know beyond all doubt that she loves me, really loves me, really wants to be with me. People, all of us, are full of shit. We try and show the people who are important to us for whatever reason, what they want to see. All of us do this, whether we admit it or not. It is what we do when no one can see us that reveals who we truly are, and what happens at this time of day is how I know that beyond all doubt, beyond all right or reason, that she loves _me, _and wants to be nowhere else on earth other than by my side, and that she believes in my love for her.

It was hard getting here, for both of us. I know all of my side of the story, and a fair bit of her side, but I don't know anybody at all who saw this coming; not this they didn't. None of them. Some of this is hearsay, some of it is doubtless inaccurate in one way or another, but in the main it is as correct as any real life story ever is.

My name is Pansy Parkinson, and this is my story.

This all takes place after the war. Yeah, _that_ war, the one you all know about with he-who-yada, yada, yada, the miserable piece of shit, but this isn't about him. This is about us, and "us" started a few years after the war, in a conference room at the Ministry of Magic…

XXXXX

"Your proposals are interesting, Miss Granger, impractical of course, not really workable, but you are young yet. They do show a good deal of imagination and compassion, and I am sure we will all bear them in mind in future. However we must now attend to the present, don't you see?" the Minister for Magic declared.

"One step at the time, that's the way. Now then, here are the things you need to get done by the next meeting," the minister said as he slid an enormous pile of folders in front of her.

"No," Hermione said quietly but firmly, "you need it done; I don't need to do it."

"I beg your pardon?" the minister responded.

"Beg it all you like, you won't get it, none of you will," she said as she stood, shaking with anger. "You are all heading down the tracks to ruin and you are too stubborn, too smug, and too stupid to see it. Apparently I can't stop you, but I will be damned if I will stoke the boilers of this hell-bound train."

"Now see here young woman, you have been afforded an opportunity far beyond what someone of your years has ever been afforded before! You showed some ability in the war, and in consequence have been given a prestigious place in the ministry! Is this how you show your gratitude?" the Minister blustered.

"Balderdash. I have been given the opportunity, at entry-level wage, to muck out the place after decades of wrong-headed policy, ignorance, prejudice, and outright corruption; all to keep you pathetic fools in power," she said tightly.

"Now see here-" began an Elder.

"Shut up. Now I know why Shacklebolt quit, you seek nothing but your own security, and I'm not going to help you any longer. If you think that tearing down the statue that Riddle had put in the lobby and replacing the original "Magical Brotherhood" one is helping you're even stupider than you look, and that would be difficult. At least Riddle's version was honest in its intentions, and if you think that the Elves, Goblins, Centaurs, Veela, and the other sentient races are going to meekly return to status quo antebellum you are in for an extremely rude awakening," she told them flatly. She stood and swept her gaze over all of them.

"Piss off, all of you; I have better things to do. I may come back and help pick up the pieces, but then again I may not."

"So, you know best then, is that it? Why should we believe that?"

"Because I am even smarter than you think I am, and I listen to people and base my recommendations on what _is_, and not on what I wish for."

Hermione Granger headed for the door.

"I have not dismissed you, young woman," sputtered the minister.

"Try and stop me then. You know me, I love teaching."

They did know her, and none of them tried to stop her.

Hermione had gone straight to Grimmauld Place, where she lived with Harry, Ron, and Ginny. Harry and Ron were aurors, and Ginny was playing Quidditch and Harry.

She plopped down on a sofa in the sitting room and accepted Kreacher's offer of a drink. Kreacher had quite gotten over his prejudice against mudbloods, at least as far as Hermione went, and nearly worshipped her.

"Forgive Kreacher, but Mistress seems upset," he ventured tentatively as he handed her a Brandy Alexander.

"I am, Kreacher, my friend," she sighed, and she took a long swallow. "This is great, you'd make a fortune as a bartender," she told him.

"Thank you, Mistress Hermione, but may Kreacher ask…"

"I've quit the Min, Kreacher. The fools refuse to see reason. I'm sorry, I have failed you all."

"Never, Mistress, you are the only one who ever really tried. We shan't forget that," he promised.

"You can't trust them, Kreacher. Tell the others that from me. You can't trust the humans," she said as she drained the glass.

"We can trust you, Mistress Hermione, and we does. Shall I fix you another?"

"Yes, thank you, Kreacher. Just keep them coming, will you?" Kreacher grinned and nodded.

"What's this about you telling off the Minister for Magic and stomping out?" Ron demanded as he swept into the sitting room.

"That sounds about right," Hermione answered, "would you like a Brandy Alexander? Kreacher is a wizard with them." She snorted at the irony.

"Listen, we can fix this, all you have to do is apologize. Everyone knows you've been under a lot of stress and, well, I'm sure they'll make allowances," Ron said earnestly.

"Allowances? They're wrong, Ron."

"Maybe, but if you'd just-"

"Maybe? Are you really taking their side in this?" she asked quietly.

"No! Well, yes, I mean, it's the Minister, and-"

"Have you forgotten how the ministry hurt us during the war? How they made things harder for all of us?"

"No, but it's different now, and-"

"It is _not_ different, Ron, not really. The only difference is that now you're inside the ministry. That's the only difference," she told him.

"Maybe that's enough for me, at least for now," he muttered.

"Well it's not enough for me, and it never will be," she countered.

"Please, Hermione, for me, for _us_, please, just apologize," he pleaded.

"No. We all risked death for what we thought was right, Ron. Right doesn't change just because wrong doesn't wear the face of a snake just now."

"This is our future we're talking about, Hermione," he reminded her.

"It's more than just _our_ future, Ron. You used to trust me, but now that you've got a nice paycheck, that changes things, does it?"

"Maybe it does."

"Not for me. I'm done with the Min, I'm done with all of it, the fools who won't listen, won't change. I'm done," she said, and she waved her glass. Kreacher appeared instantly.

"Not too high and mighty to let Kreacher bring you your drinks though, are you? Thought you were all for elf rights and such."

"Have a care how you speaks to Mistress Hermione, Master Ron," Kreacher cautioned. "She has proved herself our friend more than once, and never more than now. If she wants a drink, it is Kreacher's pleasure to bring it to her. Any House-elf would say the same."

Ron was not so big a fool as to miss the message implicit in that statement.

"It's as bad as that?" he asked.

"Worse. And as I said, I'm done."

"You'd leave me? Forget about us?" he pressed.

"You have. Why shouldn't I?"

"I can't promise to wait for you," Ron said, looking at his feet.

"I don't ask you to. I wish you well, Ron, but if this is all it takes to part us then what we had wasn't worth much in the first place."

"You'll regret this one day," he predicted. She shrugged.

"Perhaps. God knows I regret enough other shit, but as I can't please everyone I figure it's time I took a shot at pleasing myself." Hermione thanked Kreacher for her drink, drained it, and handed him the glass.

"You're drunk, Hermione," Ron stated derisively.

"Not yet I'm not, but I'm working on it. Goodbye, Ron." He left without a word.

"I heard what happened," Harry said in greeting a while later.

"Really? What happened, then?" Hermione asked.

"You told off the Minister and the Council and quit. Just walked out," he answered.

"That about covers it, yes," she admitted, holding out her glass. Kreacher appeared and took it for a refill.

"You're drunk," Harry said.

"Almost. You're closer to right than Ron was, any road." Kreacher handed her a glass and she drained it.

"Hermione…"

"I know, Harry, I'll leave. You have Ginny to think of, and Ron is your best friend, but Harry, you have to believe me. Things are bad, worse than with Voldemort in some ways. I can't fix it, but you might have to. It sucks, it's not fair, and you deserve better, but it's coming. You have to believe me, Harry," she entreated.

"I do believe you, Hermione. You've never let me down, not once. But we all have our parts to play. Will you come back and help me rebuild once this is over?"

"I've always helped you, Harry. Take care of yourself this time, though. Okay?"

"I'll try. What do I tell Ginny?"

"Tell her I love her. Tell her I have to try and fix things with my parents. I do, but I doubt that I can. I'm burned out, Harry. I have nothing left to give, not when it's just thrown back in my face. I just can't do it any more. I'll leave tomorrow."

"Kreacher might go with you, you know," Harry said with a sad smile.

"Not likely, I won't have a house for him to elf in." Harry handed her an envelope.

"I owe you my life, Hermione, and I have more than I can spend in a lifetime. Take this. Be happy. God knows you deserve it." Tears filled Hermione's eyes.

"I love you, Harry."

"I know you do," he said quietly, "and you know that I love you too."

"Harry, will you go to bed with me? Just once…" she asked him wistfully.

"I'd like to, Hermione, I really would. I love you more than anyone I know except Ginny, but I can't. Not and be me," he told her sadly.

"But you want me? You think I'm pretty?"

Hermione had at last achieved drunkenness. Typically, she excelled at it.

"You are, and always will be, in every possible way, the most beautiful woman I have ever known," Harry assured her.

She smiled and fell asleep.

"She's gone, then?" Ron asked the next day.

"Yes," Harry told him.

"Couldn't take it I guess," Ron said.

"She took it for years, mate. Took all of it and left us the glory once the war was over. We never deserved her, none of us. How do think we'll get on without her?"

Ron had no reply to that.

XXXXX

That was her back story, mine is simpler. I got escorted out of Hogwarts prior to the battle and I ran. I grabbed the papers for my inheritance from my grandmother and I kept running 'till I found someplace where they had never heard of he-who-must-not-be-named.

Then I settled in and waited until the shit was over.

Nearly every story has heroes, including this one.

I am not one of them.

XXXXX

Our paths crossed one evening at the Hog's Head, I kind of like the place, always have, although I could never get Draco to go there back in school. Draco was kind of a pussy, really, but not a bad lay. He'd been on the straight and narrow ever since the war, and the few times I'd seen him he pretended not to recognize me. Shit, I couldn't really blame him, and I'd had enough of snooty wizard society anyway.

I walked up to the bar and ordered a firewhiskey, my usual. Aberforth knew me and was one of the few people willing to let bygones be bygones. Besides, I'm a good customer, I actually tip him. That's another thing I like about this place, next to the other customers I've got a lot of class. He poured me a double of the good stuff and I turned on my stool to survey the room. It was pretty much the same crowd as usual, meaning I didn't know any of them and didn't care, although there was a brunette at one table who had a great rack and was running her hand up some guy's leg. I settled in to watch the show.

She had the guy pretty worked up, her fingertips would brush across the bulge in his lap every now and then, but I was mostly watching the way her tits shifted under her jumper. So was the guy, come to that. I had just decided to be jealous and was wondering who I might call on for a little fun when some blonde witch came sailing into the joint screaming at the top of her lungs, calling the brunette all kinds of names and threatening to curse her into bits. She grabbed a handful of that dark hair and yanked, and the woman it was attached to came up out of her chair and punched the screaming witch right in the face. It was a hell of a punch, knocked her right on her ass and stopped the screaming for a moment or two, that is until the blonde pulled her hands away from her face and saw all the blood.

Now the guy was yelling at her too, and I could see she was maybe a little drunk, but not so drunk that she didn't disarm him when he pointed his wand at her.

"Expelliarmus," she said calmly, and that's when I recognized her.

Hermione Granger, in a bar fight with a jealous woman and her boyfriend or husband or whatever he was. I didn't have too long to wonder about it though, because some other people were showing an interest in the fight, and Aberforth suggested that I shag out the back before the law arrived. That seemed like a fine idea to me as I'm not the most popular witch in Britain. I was on the way when I saw somebody coming up behind Granger with a beer bottle and without thinking I stunned him and grabbed her by the hand.

"Come on, we need to get out of here," I told her, and she glanced around the place and saw the sense of that plan.

As soon we got outside she grabbed my arm and turned, Apparating us away.

When we arrived I looked around and recognized the place, we were in a room at the Leaky Cauldron.

"I could use a drink," she said, "come on, there's a bar downstairs. My treat. Oh, thanks for helping me out back there, I'm -"

"Hermione Granger," I supplied, and she stared at me.

"Parkinson?" I nodded. "Well, you are certainly one of the last people I would have ever expected to help me out of a jam," she admitted.

"Makes us even, you're the last person I ever expected to get into a bar fight," I told her. "Sweet punch, by the way." She looked at me hard, and then almost smiled.

"Thanks. I don't even know who she is, but I don't like my hair being pulled unless sex is involved."

My mouth may have dropped open a little at that one.

"Come on, let's get that drink," she said.

"Not a good idea," I objected.

"I am really, really tired of people telling me what to do, Parkinson," she said quietly. I held my hands up, open, and took a step back.

"Just listen for a minute, okay? Please?" I asked her. She nodded, her lips pressed into a narrow line. "If you want to get blasted I'm right there with you, but let's just get it sent up. You're famous, and the Magical Law Enforcement people may be looking for you. Tom will keep his mouth shut, he hasn't stayed in business this long by blabbing about his clientele, but you'll be spotted for sure downstairs. Aberforth will keep shut too, but somebody has to have recognized you, and do you really want to be hassled by the Min?"

"No. I have had quite enough of that. You're right, I guess I owe you another one," she admitted.

I walked over to the room service parchment. "Whiskey or Elf-wine?"

"Whiskey."

I wrote out an order for Ogden's Best, and added a little food; this looked like a night for serious drinking. The order appeared in moments, along with a note suggesting that the anonymous occupant of this room would do well to stay out of sight for a while. I showed it to her.

"I'll take the couch, you're sort of a guest," she told me, "and you did help me out."

"Thanks," I said, and I poured two big shots. She tossed hers down and held out the glass for a refill. I followed suit, and for a while we just concentrated on drinking.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" I asked her after maybe the fourth shot. "This doesn't seem like you."

"Yeah, well what do you know about me? I don't even know myself any longer. I told off the whole Ministry and walked out, I had to leave the place I was living, I broke up with Ron, my parents are terrified of me, I have no job, no plans, I'm living in this shitty hotel, and I'm getting drunk with a woman I share only a deep and mutual hatred with. I only know that I am sick and tired of being who other people think I should be, and doing what they think I should do. I want to drink, have uncomplicated sex when I feel the urge to, and not take any guff from anybody. Sod the whole world," she said passionately. I regarded her with new appreciation.

"I get that. I do. I don't claim to have been under the same pressures that you have, but I'm pretty tired of other people's expectations too. You're right, sod the lot of 'em." I poured again, and we toasted. "I don't hate you anymore either, screw it, it takes too much effort. Besides, if I piss you off you might break my nose too."

She actually smiled.

"Yeah, I might at that. What the hell, I've kind of dumped my friends, might as well dump my enemies too. What have you been doing with yourself?"

So we sat and drank, and nibbled on whatever it was that Tom had sent up, it might have been cheese, I suppose, and that's how I heard the story of what happened at the Min, and at Grimmauld Place. I told her my story too, although it didn't take nearly so long and wasn't very interesting.

"So Harry gave me some money and I got a room here," she finished, "been here about a week, I think."

Neither one of us was too clear about anything at that point, so I just nodded.

"I've got hangover potion in my bag," I told her, "it won't sober you up any, but it takes the pain out of the morning."

"Good. We might as well finish off this firewhiskey then." I got out the potion and we split it.

There were a few shots left, and I poured again. By then we were sort of sipping the whiskey. It was kind of nice, really, getting absolutely drunk with her. It wasn't like we were really friends, just two people who were both kind of fed up, finding a little common ground. I've had lots worse nights than that one.

The bottle was empty before I got up the nerve to ask her the thing I'd wanted to ask her since I first recognized her in the Hog's Head.

"Where did those boobs come from? You sure didn't have those things back in school."

She gave me a kind of sloppy grin.

"Late growth spurt. My mum got taller, I got these, wanna see them?"

She really was drunk, but so was I, so -

"Sure."

She peeled off her jumper and dropped her bra, taking a moment to rub the strap marks before sitting up and holding locking her fingers behind her head.

"What do you think?" she asked.

My tongue was kind of thick, and she seemed to maybe have three of them, but finally I managed to say-

"Damn, Granger, they're great, I'm jealous." They were great, round and full and heavy, and I wished I was sober so I could focus better. Then again if we were sober she never would have shown them off, so I was glad we were drunk.

I was also about to pass out, but I thought I heard her say, "You can touch them if you want to." If she really had said that, I really would have wanted to, but about that time my head hit the table.

I woke up alone in her bed, fully dressed except for my shoes, and Hermione was asleep on the couch. Her bra was still on the table, so maybe I didn't dream all of it, but unfortunately she had her jumper on.

She was still nice to look at, though, not counting the drool. She was really zonked. I did my morning stuff and cast a cleaning spell on my clothes, then I went down and ordered breakfast for us. The shower was running when I got back to Granger's room so I set out breakfast and had a cup of tea while I waited for her.

"Oh, I figured you were gone," she said, emerging from the bathroom wearing a robe, her hair still wet.

"I'll leave if you want me to, but I just went to get breakfast. How's the head?"

"Not bad, thanks for the potion. I don't think I've ever been that drunk before, I hope I didn't make a fool of myself or anything, I don't remember much after the first few drinks."

_"Liar,"_ I thought, the potion took care of that too, but if that's how she wanted to play it then I'd go along with her. "If you did I don't recall it," I told her. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving," she admitted, and she sat down across from me and helped herself. I was glad to see that she had a real appetite; I hate it when people pick at food. Eat it or don't eat it, but for Merlin's sake don't just shove it around your plate. Granger wasn't what I'd call fat, but there was meat on her bones for sure. Pretty nice meat from what I recalled.

"Got any plans on what to do now that you've left the Min? Teaching, maybe?" I asked.

"No immediate plans beyond being completely selfish for a while. Thanks to Harry I've got enough to last a bit if I'm careful. I damn sure don't want anything to do with the current administration. Oh, if you still have House-elves, you'd do well to free them. Things are coming to a head in the non or part human sector of the magical community."

"Thanks for the tip; I'll tell mother, she might even listen. I don't live at home anymore, since the war I keep a really low profile in the wizarding world. It was just luck I was in Hogsmeade last night, I kind of like the Hog's Head and Aberforth doesn't give me any grief. The drinks are cheap too. What got you there?" She looked at me for a moment and then shrugged.

"I wanted to get laid." I guess I stared a little. "I like sex, are you surprised?"

"Huh? No, I just never figured you for the type to pick up someone in a bar, I guess."

"Yeah, well that didn't work out too well anyway. Every place else I went people recognized me right away, I figured maybe the clientele there might not. I don't fancy getting in the "Prophet" again. Thanks again for helping out."

"Glad to. So, am I right in thinking that you're not real keen on stirring up gossip in the wizard community, but you want to cut loose a little?" I asked her.

"That's about right."

I buttered a piece of toast and worked on that while I thought things over. _"What the hell, no harm in asking," _I thought.

"It so happens that I have had a fair bit of experience in avoiding notice the last couple years, and I have a suggestion," I said as casually as I could.

"Let's hear it; I sure haven't been too good at avoiding notice myself. I almost wound up in jail last night, I guess."

"I bought a flat," I told her.

"I don't have _that_ much money, Parkinson," she replied.

"I wasn't done. My flat is in Muggle London, nothing spectacular, but it's nice and modern. There are some good clubs and bars in the neighborhood and nobody has ever heard of Pansy Parkinson, the girl who tried to give Harry Potter to he-who-must-not-be-named."

"Well that's great for you, I guess, but-"

"I'll rent you a room for less than you're paying here. Your own room, your own bath, you come and go as you please. It would be safer for both of us than living alone, and we'd have privacy whenever we wanted it. Like I said, it's not spectacular, but it's way better than here." I would have let her stay for free, but I knew she would never go for that.

"Why would you do that? I mean, last night aside, we're hardly friends," she asked.

"Maybe not, but we've proved that we can be civil to each other. I'm not looking for someone to paint toenails and have pillow fights with, but I think it could work out for both of us. If you don't like it you can always leave, and I doubt anybody there has heard of you either."

"Anonymity does hold a certain appeal," she said slowly.

"You'll just be one more woman with a great pair of tits," I promised her. She looked startled, then she grinned a little.

"You've got a deal, Parkinson. One thing's sure, nobody will think to look for me at your place."


	2. Chapter 2

Author: Lash_Larue  
Title: "Eventual Envelopment" Chapter 2 of 21

Pairing: Granger/Parkinson  
Rating: PG13

Warnings: Voyeurism, Obsessive/Compulsive behaviour  
Word Count:1180

Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling

"Eventual Envelopment"

Chapter Two

"Exits and Entrances"

After breakfast, Granger packed up her stuff. I watched as she spelled all of it into this little purse she had and I had to admit I was impressed. She really was as good as she was made out to be.

"I'll send an owl to Tom if I decide to stay at your place, I'm paid up through the end of the week here. Umm, don't take this the wrong way, but can you get me there without splinching me?" Granger asked.

"I'm not in your class, Granger, but Apparition is one of my strong suits. You ready?" She put an arm around my waist and pulled me against her. I kind of liked the way it felt.

"Ready whenever you are," she said, and I took us to my place.

We landed in the middle of the living room. Like I said, Apparition is my thing, making a fast exit can be important when you're as hated as I am.

"Nothing spectacular, huh?" she said as she looked around.

It's a nice place. Okay, it's kind of a penthouse, and it has a pretty good view which is what had her attention at that moment.

"It's not all that large. There's this living area with the kitchen and bar to the side, just there. There's a terrace outside those glass doors, but no pool. I've got a suite with a little sitting room that I hardly use, and there are two other bedrooms. One nice thing is that they all have their own baths. I got tired of sharing a bath at school, there was always strange pubic hair showing up on my soap," I explained, and that got a laugh out of her.

"Come on, I'll show you your room. I mean, yours if you want it, that is."

She followed me, and I mentally crossed my fingers that she'd stay. I really wanted her to take that room.

"Here it is," I said to cover my nervousness, "if you stay you're free to decorate any way you want to."

She wandered around and opened the closet, checked out the bath, stood at the window for a while, but she didn't say anything. When she turned back to me her face was openly suspicious.

"You're willing to rent me _this_, for less than a room at the Leaky Cauldron? What's going on, Parkinson?"

I took a deep breath and decided to be straight with her, up to a point, that is.

"I get nervous here alone, scared. The friends I used to have don't want to be seen with me any more and I'm not really interested in making new ones. Acquaintances, sure, I know a few Muggles around here to talk to and have a little fun with, but I don't know one I'd want living with me." She stiffened when I said that.

"No, it's not like that, I'm past all that "Muggles are inferior" crap, really. I just want to be able to use magic freely when I'm at home, and I'm not close enough to anyone to be able to do that. That would mean a real relationship, and I'm not ready for that, do you see?"

"I guess I do, yes," she allowed, "but why me? There has to be a witch or wizard somewhere that would be willing to live in a place like this for what you're asking for rent."

"You might be surprised how few witches or wizards will have anything to do with me, Granger; or maybe you wouldn't be. In any case, as for why you - you don't seem to want any more of wizard society than I do, and I trust you not to cut my throat in my sleep. Also, you're smart, and you can carry on an intelligent conversation. I figure we can watch each other's backs when we're out and maybe have some fun at the same time."

"May I see the other bedroom?" she asked.

"Sure, come on." I took her to the other room, it's a lot smaller, and doesn't have a view to speak of. Certainly not like the view from the other room, I hoped.

"You sure you wouldn't rather I took this one?" she asked.

"I'm sure. Look, Granger, the other room is nicer, and it's empty. If I ever have overnight company they'll likely sleep with me, and I'm thinking you feel the same way, right?" That got me another smile, also a nod. "So, what do you think?"

"I think you should show me around the neighborhood, and we can decide where to go tonight. I also think you should call me Hermione. No, make it Jean, that's my middle name, and I think Jean is going to be a lot more fun than Hermione ever was."

"Fair enough, Jean it is. Call me Pansy, I don't have a middle name. Get settled in and let me know when you're ready for the tour." I held out my hand and she took it and held it for a moment.

"Thanks, Pansy," she said, and she went to her room.

I went to my room too, and I locked the door and then went into my bathroom. I tapped the mirror with my wand and watched as Jean unpacked and hung up her clothes and put her books on the shelves.

I'm a Slytherin after all, and I'm a voyeur, and I could feel myself getting wet just watching her move around her room. It's as much the watching, unknown, that's the thrill for me as it is the seeing things I'm not supposed to see. Almost, anyway. The tension of waiting, wondering, the way my breath catches in my throat when her hands go to her shirt. Even the disappointment when she just straightens her collar sends a shock through me.

I ache. I want to shove my hands into my knickers and get myself off while I watch her, but that's against the rules. No wanking unless she undresses. Of course, the real prize would be to watch _her_ wank while I do, or to wank while I watch her have sex, but I can't be that strict with myself. I can't hold out for that, not when just watching Jean put books on a shelf has me soaking my knickers I can't.

I think Jean is going to be a lot more fun than Hermione ever was too.

She finishes her unpacking, at least for the moment, and sits on the edge of her bed and looks out over London. I stand in front of my sink, looking at her.

She's not what I remember. She's not what I expected. She's kind of fragile. There is a shadow in those chocolate eyes that is screaming in pain. Pain that not even her mind can ignore, can overcome, not yet, not now.

Jean needs time. Jean needs acceptance, especially from herself. Jean needs to let go of her guilt, let go of her fears and to step out into the light as herself.

And Jean doesn't know it yet, but Jean needs me.

I already know that I'm starting to need her.

She sits.

I watch.


	3. Chapter 3

Author: Lash_Larue  
Title: "Eventual Envelopment" Chapter 3 of 21

Pairing: Jean/Pansy  
Rating: M

Warnings: Language, Sexual references. The story is going to involve compulsive and potentially dangerous behavior that might possibly be triggering to some, in addition to smut. The main characters are not really happy people at this point. Specific warnings by chapter.

Word Count:2950

Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling

"Eventual Envelopment"

Chapter Three

"Shaking"

Jean stands up and heads to her bathroom, and my heart slams against my ribs, but she just brushes her teeth. That does kind of bounce things around, though, and I have to keep a firm hand on something besides me. I decide to brush my teeth as well. She leaves her bathroom and passes through her bedroom heading for the door.

I take off my knickers and wash myself off. I'm stepping into a clean pair of panties when she knocks on my door.

"Are you decent?" she calls out.

_"Not remotely,"_ I think as I open the door.

"Sure," I lie, "just cleaning up a little. Ready to meet the neighborhood?"

"Might as well," she replied, and I led her to the elevator.

"I use the regular entrance, usually," I told her. "It makes sense to be seen coming and going. I tell the people who ask that I'm a freelance editor, that explains why I'm in and out at odd hours, or even here or absent for long periods of time."

"Good idea, maybe I'll just pose as your live-in or something, if anyone asks. That okay with you?" she asked.

_"You bet your ass,"_ I thought. "Sure," I said.

We walked through the neighborhood and I showed her my favorite places.

"This is the best place for dancing, the food is just average, but the music is good and the crowd is usually pretty cool. Across the street is the best place to find guys. Most of them are professionals, and I think most of them are married, but they're usually clean and civil, and they aren't looking for relationships."

"That doesn't bother you, them being married?" she asks me.

"I don't ask. If I'm in the mood and there is a spark, I figure it's up to them to tell me if they're married. So far nobody has mentioned it. I kind of like it that way." She slowly nodded. "We're lucky, being witches. We've got contraception and immunization spells to take care of most of the risks. But you can never forget that these are strangers, right? That's a part of why I want someone living with me, you just never can tell in advance when somebody might turn out to be the wrong kind of freak, you know?"

From the look on her face, that hadn't really occurred to her. Jean was kind of naive, no matter how smart she was.

"Oh. Maybe we should take turns, so one of us can always watch out for the other?"

"That makes sense. You get first dibs, I kind of figure you've been without longer than I have," I told her.

"That might be a story for another time, and another bottle of firewhiskey. But I'm not interested in a hookup tonight; I just want to get to know the place a little. If you are, then I'll be glad to watch out for you," she replied.

"Thanks, but let's just keep today and tonight for ourselves. If we're going to live together we should get to know each other a little better, I guess, and "Jean" suits you, but I might slip up now and again."

"I can understand that, but I want to put "Hermione" behind me. Damn, I wonder how long it will be before I stop expecting a whole crowd of Slytherins to show up and start giving me the business?" she asked me.

"I can't say. All I can do is promise you that that is not going to happen. None of them will speak to me now. Besides, like I said, I don't want my nose broken. The damn thing is ugly enough as it is," I answered.

"I think it's kind of cute," Jean countered. "What's that club?"

I covered up the little shiver. Damn, what the hell was going on with me?

"That would be the place to go if you want a woman," I told her. "The food is a lot better there."

"Is that a declaration?" she asked, smiling.

"Not so much, but sometimes I want the touch of a woman, yes. Is that a problem for you?"

"Not unless it's me," she answered with a grin.

My heart kind of sank a little, but then her face changed.

"I've kind of wondered sometimes, though... have you... have you really? I mean, with a woman?"

She turned bright red and I wanted to take her right there on the street.

"Sure," I said as casually as I could manage. "It makes a nice change. Think about it, Jean. Who knows what a woman wants better than another woman?" I could see her working on that.

"I suppose that makes sense," she said slowly. "What about a regular restaurant? I don't much feel like partying tonight, but I'm getting hungry. How about we just make this a "getting to know you" night? Like you said, we should get to know each other if we're going to live together."

It was a little early for dinner, but we'd skipped lunch and I was hungry.

"French, Italian, Chinese, Thai, or fish and chips?" I asked.

"There's a good Thai place?" she asked hopefully.

"Just you wait," I told her. "It's a bit of a hike, but well worth it." I held out my hand and she took it without hesitation.

_"One step at the time, Pans..."_

I made the steps long and fast. I'm a good walker, and I wanted her sweaty because I didn't know how often she usually showered and I was hoping to encourage that.

I'll hand it to her, she kept up.

"Good evening, Miss Parkinson," Ananda greeted me, "you are early this evening, but it is always a pleasure to see you." Jean looked at me and arched an eyebrow. Something contracted in my panties.

"I like this place," I explained.

"I am happy to see you with a friend," he said.

That got the eyebrow again.

"Ananda, this is Jean," I told him, "Jean, Ananda. This is his restaurant."

"Pleased to meet you," she said, and Ananda smiled and bowed before showing us to a table.

"Come here often?" Jean asked me when we were alone.

"Yeah. The food is great, and so is the service," I told her. "I don't cook much."

I never cook. My cooking sucks. I can manage toast and cold cereal or a sandwich, but that's about it. Even my tea sucks.

"Usually alone, I take it," she continued.

"Yeah," I had to swallow, something about her just- I didn't know, but I wanted to. "I think of this place as mine. I don't bring dates here, and I don't pick people up here. These are good people, it's a family business. I feel safe here, comfortable," I fell silent. I started when she touched my hand.

"Thank you for sharing it with me then," she said quietly, and her hand was gone before I could squeeze it. Likely a good thing, because she had me spinning a bit.

"Part of our "getting to know you" evening," I said as heartily as I could. Thankfully Phara arrived just then with some water, and I sucked it down. I'm cool. Really, seriously cool. Always. But Jean just messed my head.

"Your usual, Miss Parkinson?" Phara asked.

"Not tonight. Bring us whatever you think is appropriate for new friends just getting to know each other," I told her, hoping that I hadn't overstepped.

Phara smiled and bustled off. Jean stared at me. I managed to keep quiet, and by the time Phara was back with the tea Jean had relaxed. There was a lot going on behind her eyes.

"I love Thai sweet tea," she said as she took a long drink of it.

"Me too, and they do it well here," I replied, taking a drink myself. It helped. It was cold and sweet and good and it took my mind off of things that I thought would be hot and salty and good. At least a little, anyway.

The dinner was wonderful, and it made me happy to see Jean enjoying it fully. Her manners were impeccable, but she didn't attempt to hide the fact that she liked what she was eating, and she ate all of it.

"What's my share?" she asked when the check came.

"You can get it next time," I said as I scrawled my name on the check after adding a good tip. I felt a little tingle when she simply said, "okay."

I knew right then that I was in trouble, but there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. It was just too late for me. She pushed every button I have without doing a single thing other than being there. I didn't understand it, but I couldn't deny it.

"Come and see this," I said on the way home, and I led her to a playground. Thankfully the kiddies were mostly all at dinner, and we could get to the swings and the slide, and the roundabout. Jean held tight to that while I spun her as hard as I could, and her laughter had me just as dizzy as the spinning had her. She stumbled when she got off, and she threw her arms around me to keep from falling.

"Easy there," I managed to get out, and my laugh didn't sound _too_ forced, but my hand lingered on her sweaty back, and my heart pounded in my chest. My heart had sure been getting a workout since she had punched that witch back in Hogsmeade.

We got back and collapsed on the couch.

"Dinner was great, Pansy, and the park was fun, but it's good to be home," she said, and a buzzing filled my ears. She had called it 'home'. I went to the kitchen and fetched a bottle of champagne and a couple of glasses.

"Champagne?" she said. "Ron got some once, it tasted like feet."

"This doesn't," I promised her. It had better not, it was from my mother's cellar and it would cost more than a thousand galleons a bottle if you could buy it, which you couldn't.

The look on her face when she tasted it was worth the full price.

"This is marvelous!" she exclaimed. "It's like drinking sunshine!"

"Glad you like it. I pinched it from mum, you won't find this stuff in a shop, but what the hell, this is a big day, we might as well celebrate it in style." I was worried that I might have gone too far with that one, but she just smiled and raised her glass to me before taking another sip. I liked that too, she knew the stuff was special and she respected it. Whiskey is for hard drinking, but something this fine should be savoured.

I tried real hard not to stare at her chest, and I did pretty good even though she'd opened a couple buttons to cool off after the park. I swapped to her eyes, but that didn't calm me down much. Maybe I should have picked someone up after all. I figured I'd best start talking about something.

"So, about us getting to know us - go ahead, ask me anything," I told her.

She looked me right in the eye when she asked, "How can you afford this place?"

Well, I told her to ask anything. It was a bold question, and I liked that too. I also had to admit that it wasn't really out of line, not if she was going to be living here. Besides, she'd already told me some pretty personal stuff, even if she'd been drunk when she did it.

"My maternal grandmother left me a pile. Pissed my father off to no end, he'd hoped to get his hands on that." I sipped my wine, and Jean just watched quietly, waiting to see if I had anything else to say. "Parkinson is an old pure blood family," I went on, "my mother wanted the name, and my father wanted the money. Neither one of them really wanted me. My father wanted a male heir, maybe you've heard about that pure blood obsession, they'll do anything for a male heir. My mum didn't want kids at all, but that was part of the deal. So I was a big disappointment right from the start, but my grandmother loved me, and she hated my father, so she left it to me."

I had to stop talking for a minute; my grandmother was the only person who had ever really loved me. I didn't mind talking about her, I just had to stop talking for a minute.

Jean said nothing, she just poured me a little more champagne and waited.

"That's another reason I avoid wizard society. Too many greedy mothers trying to foist off their sainted offspring off on me. I'm not interested, that world is behind me. I just can't play that game, I'm no brood mare." Jean nodded slowly.

"I like to shag, though," I said, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Here's to shagging," Jean agreed, and we toasted.

"Your turn," she said, "ask away."

"How was Weasley in the sack?" I was taking a chance with that one, hoping the shadow in her eyes wasn't caused by Weasley, because I didn't want to go there yet. I just couldn't see how a woman like her could get that wrapped up in the Weasleking though, so I took the chance. She shrugged, and I felt a little relieved.

"Not too bad, I guess. He's gentle, and considerate, and sometimes that's what I want. But he's _always_ like that, it's like he thinks I'll break or something. Sometimes - sometimes I just wished he would let go and screw me like he meant it or something, you know?"

I did know, and I was glad to hear that she did too.

"Yeah, sometimes you just want it hard and fast," I agreed.

"Exactly, what about Draco?" she countered.

"No problems with Draco being too gentle, but he only had one speed too, and sometimes you do want it slow and gentle. I tried telling him that, but he only seemed to care about a nice wet place to put it. Thank goodness for lubrication spells."

"I never had the nerve to say anything to Ron about it, I was sure he'd be crushed, he's so insecure." She finished her glass and poured another before topping off mine and continuing. "And I guess I just didn't care enough to bother, now that I think about it. We just kind of fell together because everybody expected us to."

I didn't say anything, but I knew just what she meant.

"Well, to hell with that sort of shit, I'm done living for everybody else," she said in a fierce sort of whisper, and I thought maybe I had a better idea of what the shadow in her eyes was about.

It was time for shock therapy.

"So, you've really never eaten pussy?" I asked her, and her eyes went round and her faced turned red, and I got ready to duck, but she just busted out laughing.

She has a great laugh, right from the belly, and it had those knockers of hers bouncing around like two puppies playing under a blanket.

"Thanks, Pansy, I really needed a laugh. I guess tomorrow I should go shopping for bathroom stuff. Ginny and I shared things like shampoo and I left it for her. I just got those little travel things when I was staying at the Cauldron."

"I've got that covered, you'll find plenty of stuff under the sink in your bathroom. Try it, and if you like it, use it, if not we can always go shopping. Do you have a real preference between Muggle and wizard toiletries?" I asked.

"I never really thought about it, just used what was handy," she told me.

"Try the shampoo in the blue bottle, it's Veela made and it should work great on thick hair like yours. I tried it, and I love the way it smells, but my hair is so fine it needs something different."

"Thanks. I wish my hair was like yours, I wage a constant battle with this stuff."

I really, really hoped she'd try that shampoo. After that we talked for a while about the old days at Hogwarts, and we agreed that I'd been a bitch and that she'd been a know-it-all. It was fun, and then the wine was gone and we just sat in silence for a while. That was another thing I liked about her, she didn't feel the need to talk just to make noise.

We'd covered money, sex, old times, and personal grooming well enough for a start, so -

"Would you like to watch a movie? Muggles have got that stuff figured out, and there's cable here." She yawned.

"Maybe tomorrow, if you don't mind I'd kind of like to make an early night of it. Potion or no, last night took a lot out of me."

"That sounds good to me too, Jean. The sheets on your bed are fresh, and there are towels in the cabinet in the bath, sometimes I like to use a towel rather than my wand to dry off."

"Great, thanks for everything, Pansy. See you in the morning."

"See you, sleep well," I replied.

I waited until she had closed her door and then I got to my bathroom as fast as I could without making any noise. My hand was shaking when I tapped the mirror with my wand.


	4. Chapter 4

Author: Lash_Larue  
Title: "Eventual Envelopment" Chapter Four of ?

Pairing: Jean/Pansy  
Rating: M this time.

Warnings: Obsessive-Compulsive Behavior, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Explicit descriptions

Word Count:2740

Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling

"Eventual Envelopment"

Chapter 4

"Open"

The mirror shivered briefly, and then there she was. She was standing in the dark, looking out at the lights of the city. I've done that myself, it's quite a sight. After a few moments she closed the drapes and went over to her dressing table and turned on the light. It was like I was right in front of her. She sighed (the spell let me hear as well as see) and ran her fingers through her hair. She made a face; I guess maybe it felt kind of dirty, I hoped so.

I had both hands on the edge of the counter, holding myself up as I leaned towards my mirror, trying to get just a little closer to her. I was barely breathing even though I knew there was no way that she could hear me.

Her fingers went to the top button of her blouse, and I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, hear my shallow, panting breaths as she slowly undid the fasteners. She turned away, taking off her blouse as she walked over to her closet where she kicked off her shoes and grabbed a pair of honest to God pajamas and laid them on her bed. She dropped her blouse beside them and took her bra off, once again taking a moment to rub the marks the straps had left on her. Her breasts looked even better when I only saw two of them. I know how good it feels to me to take that thing off, and my boobs are "perky" if you're feeling generous. It had to feel good to her.

She pulled off her slacks and sat on the edge of the bed to remove her socks and then hooked her thumbs inside her knickers and slid them off too. She stood up and looked around the room and that was when I understood just why she'd had me so off balance. If I could have a woman made just for me, she would have that body. Just exactly that body. Even when she was dressed I could sense it by the way she moved, the way she sat, she pulled on me like the moon does the tide. Seeing her uncovered just brought it all into focus.

Jean had a softness about her, there were no angles, just curves. Her breasts swung when she moved, and she had a little bit of a belly, and her hipbones were cushioned. She looked strong, her thighs had a sweep of muscle under the softness and her arms were firm. I had wondered if she shaved her pussy like so many women do nowadays, but she didn't. Maybe she trimmed it a little; the dark triangle of hair was very neat. It was also kind of thin, nothing at all like the thick stuff on her head and I could see the swell of her vulva and the top of her cleft. She stretched, and sighed again, the good sigh from deep down that comes from satisfaction. I could tell she liked being here.

My hands brushed my tits, and I was sorry I still had my bra on. I reached for the fastener on my slacks, but stopped. It was allowed now by my rules. I could take care of the ache between my legs, she was as naked as she could get. But for me, with my kinks and my preferences, and okay, maybe perversions; Jean was a thousand galleon bottle of champagne. Life being what life is, I couldn't count on ever having this again.

I was going to savour this if it killed me, and as ragged as my breathing was and the way my heart was slamming against my ribs, maybe it would.

She picked up her dirty clothes and carried them into the bathroom, where she looked around again. I figured she was looking for a hamper and for a stupid moment I was on my way to her room to tell her about the laundry chute and the laundry service. That would have been fun to explain.

She wound up just piling them on one end of the counter. I was obscurely pleased that she hadn't dropped them on the floor. She opened the linen cabinet and took out a washcloth, then she turned on the tap and wet the cloth and scrubbed her face with it.

I was really afraid she would stop with that, but she touched her hair again and then looked at the washcloth and made that face.

"It's the shower for you, Jean," she decided out loud, and I nearly cheered. I stared at her rear end while she bent over and looked under the sink. I wanted to bite it. Every part of her looked soft, looked inviting, looked like you could curl up right there and just _die_ because it would feel so good. Her skin was like milk, and I could see faint blue veins through it in some places. She also had a light spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose that I hadn't seen before. I guess she covered them with something. She shouldn't do that.

I felt myself getting wetter.

She stood up and I saw the blue bottle, and I smiled. There was a selection of soaps under there as well, and the one she had picked was a smooth glycerin bar with a lavender scent. She turned on the shower and went back to get a towel, and I was glad to see that she liked them, too.

She stepped into the shower and my point of view shifted.

The spell I use for this took me years to get right, and I can assume any point of view I choose, although usually I leave it so that my view is like it would be if the mirror was just a window. I can see everywhere in the room and bath except the alcove where the toilet is. My kink doesn't run to that, and even I have a tiny bit of respect for people's privacy.

But I just can't help looking. I'd been to therapy, but I really like this. It's not my only flaw by a mile, but it is my only compulsion. Besides, I wasn't hurting the people I watched, I always followed my rules. But when the want is strong enough it's the same thing as a need, at least to me, it is.

And right now I wanted, needed, to be standing in front of her as she closed her eyes and held her face up to the warm flood of water, to watch as her hair got dark and heavy and wet, and stuck to her back, her shoulders, her neck. The thin covering of hair on her mound was plastered down by the water, and I could just make out the hood of her clit peeping out from between her puffy outer lips. Her areolas were large and pale, the color deepening to a light brown with just a little pink on her nipples. I stared raptly as her pale skin flushed in the heat, and I stopped breathing when she picked up the clear, purple-colored soap.

I noticed every little bit of her, committed it to memory, just in case I never saw this again. Watching is what I do best, and I'd never wanted to watch anything half so much as this.

She started with her feet, leaning against the tile wall while she scrubbed them. She used the washcloth on them, and I was glad to see her hang it up when she started on her calves, sweeping the soap over the swell of the back of them before sliding it around to the front and moving upwards. I needed to see her hands touching her.

That soap smells nice, and it's easy on the skin, but it doesn't lather much, so her skin was all shiny with it, like it was oiled.

She moved on to her thighs, and I dropped my slacks to the floor, rubbing my own thighs as I saw her doing, imaging how her skin would feel under my fingers. She spread her legs apart, and I waited, hoping she'd - but no, she just washed herself and kept on going. But I still stared while she stood and let the water rinse her, watching it run down her belly and the crease of her thigh, slipping along her cleft before falling to the shower floor, and I wanted to be water, wanted to slide down that soft skin and over that even softer skin before shattering into a million sparkling drops on the tile floor.

My mouth was dry now, but that was all that was, I was sweating with the effort of not going ahead and getting off. My knickers were soaked, and I pulled them off and kicked them away. I couldn't be bothered with anything other than Jean. I could taste her name when I whispered it.

She moved on to her breasts, and a sound escaped my lips. Then I got almost angry because she was just washing them like they were dinnerware, just like she had her legs, like they weren't perfect and deserving of real attention. I bit the inside of my cheek, and the sharp pain helped me clear my head a little. Hell, they were hers; she could do what she wanted with them.

But I really wanted her to do what _I_ wanted her to do.

It wouldn't be an obsession if it made logical sense, and I was more involved with what she was doing than I was with myself, even though by now I had ditched my blouse and bra and was rubbing my tits just like she was hers. She gave her arms and armpits the same careless attention and then showed some real flexibility when she washed her back.

My arousal had peaked, I was teetering right on the edge, and all it would take to push me over would be a moan from her, just one sign that maybe she was enjoying touching herself.

It didn't come. She put the soap in the dish and picked up the shampoo, and I smiled. My smile got wider when I saw her squeeze a big blob of it into her cupped palm. It was far more than she needed, but she couldn't know that yet.

She smeared the stuff on her hair and stepped back from the spray to work up a lather. It looked like her head was boiling. Great thick clouds of ice blue foam sprang up under her fingers, and I could see the surprise on her face. Then the smell hit her.

That stuff has a derivative of Amortentia in it, combined with the same sort of magic that the Mirror of Erised has. It's not a love potion, that's against my rules. I don't force, ever. But I do supply, and what that stuff does is smell exactly like what you want most, whatever that may be, even if you don't realize that you do.

I saw her nostrils flare and her eyes go round just before she closed them against the wave of foam running down her face. She needn't have bothered, it doesn't sting. She kept trying to pile her hair on top of her head, but that lather is the slickest stuff in the world, and it kept sliding back down. I saw her tongue flick out involuntarily when a trail of the lather slipped over her lips, and I watched it come out again, slowly, reaching, scooping the foam into her mouth. The stuff tastes as good as it smells, and I wondered what it smelled like, tasted like, to her.

She wiped her eyes and stuck her face under the spray briefly to clear the lather from it and a big glob of foam slid down the slope of her right breast and kind of hung from her nipple like some sort of frosting.

I whimpered.

She held one hand under the shower and rinsed it, then reached to wipe the lather off her tit. She slid her hand down the same path the lather had taken, and I heard her breath catch when she did.

I knew what that stuff felt like on my skin. I couldn't imagine how it would feel on skin like hers, but it seemed to feel pretty good. She massaged her breast for a little while, then she pulled her hair around to the front and rubbed it over every bit of herself it would reach. She pulled the hair through her hands, squeezed out the lather and smeared the stuff thickly on her breasts, kneading them, teasing her nipples with her fingertips.

Then she bent her head down and pulled one tit up to her mouth, and when her tongue circled the nipple that was glistening pink within the ice blue foam, I came without even touching myself.

I leaned heavily on the counter, resting on my forearms, panting, shaking, staring as she sucked on herself. She let go of her breast and it bounced wetly, the nipple standing out hard as the foam swirled around it. It looked like a cherry on the top of a sundae, and my tongue reached for it before I could stop it.

She squeezed out some more shampoo, and leaned back against the wall, spreading her legs as far apart as she could get them. She slid both hands down to her pussy and rubbed slowly, the lather spilling over her fingers and down her legs, and I got my moan at last.

It came from deep inside her and it shook my bones.

Nearly every voyeuristic fantasy I had ever had was unfolding right in front of me, and if I could have picked from the lot of them, this would have been the one.

She was magnificent, I could feel her passion through the floor, and all I could do was stare. I could not move to touch myself even though the ache was building again, burning, throbbing, a thing far beyond anything I had felt before.

Jean masturbated like she ate, hungrily, joyfully, unashamed. I'd seen people wank like they were embarrassed to do it, and I didn't see why they even bothered.

Not her.

She was sliding down the wall, her hands still busy, her tits bouncing as she rubbed herself.

Then she was lying on the floor covered in lather, panting, chewing her lips, and she shoved two fingers into herself and pumped them hard while she worked on her clit with her free hand. I copied her as best I could while leaning on the counter.

This is a rule of mine too. I have to stand to see, I have to work for this, it would cheapen it for me to be lying comfortably in bed doing this. My rules make sense to me.

The chords on her neck were standing out, and she was gasping in earnest now, the wet sound from between her legs a rhythmic counterpoint to her gasps, accompanied by a similar noise from me.

She grabbed one of her breasts and squeezed hard, pumping her fingers even faster. Like she had said, sometimes you just want to be screwed like you mean it.

She let out a strangled cry, and her legs shot out stiff and rigid as her back bowed.

Some sort of noise burst from my throat as I clamped down on my fingers, and hot fluid squirted out around them when I came right after she did. That had never happened to me before.

I opened my eyes and saw her kind of ooch along the floor until the water was falling on her pussy. Her hips were tilted up and the lather washed back up her stomach, pooling in her navel and running down her sides.

The last thing I saw before I slumped to the floor was her fingers helping to clear the lather from her red and swollen labia, the thin dark hair being brushed aside as she did so.

Every little detail.

She hadn't known that I was watching, but I pretended that she had; because I wanted, more than I had ever wanted anything, for her to be so passionate, so wanton, so open, open, _open_... just for me.


	5. Chapter 5

Author: Lash_Larue  
Title: "Eventual Envelopment" Chapter 5 of 21

Pairing: Jean/Pansy  
Rating: PG13

Warnings: Language, Sexual references

Word Count:1925

Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling

"Eventual Envelopment"

Chapter Five

"Unethics"

I got to my feet in time to see her buttoning up her pajama top. She had a towel wrapped around her head, and after she had finished dressing she unwrapped the towel and rubbed her hair with it. Then she walked to her dresser, put the towel over the back of the chair and turned the light off.

"Lumos," she said, and the light from her wand cast shadows on her face so that she looked kind of unreal, and I reached out to touch her only to feel cold glass under my fingers. She looked tired and contented, and I watched her walk to her bed and crawl under the covers. I could barely hear her extinguish the light from her wand, and then it was too dark to see.

Still dazed, I took a quick shower and then went to bed naked with my hair still damp and that good, good, ache between my legs.

I was up before she was in the morning, wishing that I could cook so that I could make breakfast for her. I put a kettle of water on the burner, and dug out some tea bags and blew the dust off them, and I was staring into the refrigerator when I heard her bedroom door open and she walked in wearing her pj's. She looked cute.

"Good morning," she said, "did you sleep well?"

"Sure did," I answered, "you?"

"I can't remember when I last slept so well, I guess I really did need to get away. Thanks again, Pansy, I owe you one more."

She didn't, and I told her so, but I didn't tell her why.

"Also," I continued, "I can't cook, so we'll need to go out for breakfast."

"I can, I'll just have a look in the fridge and see what I come up with."

She took a look in the fridge. Then she took a look at me.

"There's no food in here," she said.

"There's milk," I pointed out. She spotted the milk bottle behind the wine and pulled it out.

"Not any more, there isn't," she said after she had sniffed it. "Right, after breakfast I'll get us some groceries, unless you'd be scared to eat my cooking."

"I'll take my chances, but don't feel like you have to," I told her.

"I kind of like cooking, and this is a nice kitchen. Oh, I tried that shampoo, and you were surely right about it. It's incredible! I've never seen lather like that, and the smell! It even -" she broke off and blushed a little.

"I'm glad you like it, it's yours," I said to cover her embarrassment.

"I was too sleepy to comb my hair out properly last night," she continued, "and I was afraid that it would be even more of a tangled mess than usual this morning, but the brush just glided through it. It didn't pull at all, and my hair's not even frizzy. It actually doesn't look too bad, I think."

"It looks really nice, Jean," I lied. It was beautiful, thick and wavy and lustrous, and I was glad the shampoo had made her happy as well as me.

"Where can I find it? I've surely never seen it before," she asked.

"It's not in the stores, I have it from a Veela friend of mine. I can get all you need, so use it all you want to," I encouraged her. _"Please want to..."_

"I'll pay for it of course. From the contents of the fridge I assume that you know a good place for breakfast?"

"Right across the street. I'll go and get dressed, and after breakfast we can look for a grocer. There's got to be one around here somewhere."

I turned off the burner and we went and got dressed.

We asked the server about grocers and got directions, and after Jean paid our check we headed over there and stocked up.

"I'd like to go out tonight," she told me while we put things away, "but I can fix something for you first if you don't want to."

"I'll go, it will be fun. Ahh, are you looking for company or just a night out?" I asked her.

"I think I might want some company," she admitted, drawing her fingers through her hair.

"Right then, boys or girls?"

"Boys, at least I've had a bit of experience with them. I don't know how I really feel about having sex with a woman. Frankly, I'm not sure I'd like it."

I carefully did not say anything like "you never know 'till you try", because I didn't want her to get the right idea about my intentions towards her.

"Okay, I can introduce you to some men I've been with that are decent enough sorts, and if one of them appeals to you, you won't be taking such a risk with a stranger."

"Won't that be a little awkward? I mean, if you've had sex with them and you set me up with them, then, I mean..." she trailed off uncomfortably.

"They don't remember having sex," I told her, "they just remember having a pleasant evening and a nice dinner with a charming companion, and they don't remember me."

She stared at me.

"I never go home with them, or to a hotel or someplace, I always bring them here, man or woman. This is my turf, and it's safer for me. But I don't want anybody knocking on my door or calling me, and I don't want them to remember where I live. So when we're done I use a memory charm and send them back to wherever we met. Sex really doesn't take all that long and a dinner date story usually covers the time. I can teach you the charm, if you like."

Her face was cloudy, but it cleared up after a bit.

"I guess I can see the sense in that, but it seems kind of unethical," she said slowly.

"It is, but it's simpler for everyone concerned. Besides, if they turn out to be lousy in bed it saves me having to lie about it and it keeps them from being embarrassed. I don't do this a lot, Jean. I don't screw somebody every night, or even every week, and if I ever find one I want to keep then it will be different. But when I have sex for fun I don't want to carry around any baggage from it, can you understand?"

"I understand about the baggage, yes, and no need to teach me the charm. Hermione knows all about memory charms, you'd best believe it."

The shadow in her eyes got darker, and it must have shown on my face.

"Don't worry, this isn't a case of dual personality. Well, not completely, it's more like I'm exploring another facet of myself, allowing myself to do things just because I want to try them, things I never would have done before. Hell, I don't even really know what I want to do, not long term."

"I understand that myself, Jean. We've each got our things to work through, but maybe we can kind of look out for each other while we do that."

"You've been doing that already, Pansy, and on further reflection I'm not sure I'm ready to go out. How about I fix a nice dinner for us and we watch some films? Jean knows all about Hermione, but not all that much about herself, yet. Best not to go off half-cocked."

"I know a guy like that, in case you change your mind," I told her.

She really did have a great laugh.

"I could use some new outfits first, too. Ministry wear isn't exactly fit for clubbing. I trust you know some good shops?" she asked.

"Carnaby Street is full of them," I promised.

We finished putting things away, and she was heading towards the lift after I had locked the flat.

"Hang on," I said, "that's the public lift. It does require a code to reach this floor, so it's fairly secure, but I only use it for appearances and deliveries. There is a private lift over here." I opened an ordinary-looking door at the far end of the narrow lobby. "This leads to a side entrance, I use this when I have company and want to be discreet. It looks like a service entrance. Touch your wand to that panel and I'll key the wards to you." She complied and I cast the spell. "Here's a keycard. It's fake, the wards will let you in now, this is just for show. The lock is real enough, but even if you lose the card nobody can open the lock with it."

"This is very sophisticated magic, Pansy," she said slowly.

"I was a prefect, remember? And I've had a lot of free time since Hogwarts, and I tried to make good use of it. Spells like this are interesting to me," I explained. It felt good for her to admire my magic.

"I can see that I have a lot to learn about you as well. This might be as educational as it is fun."

"I think so too. We'll take the lift down and I'll show you the entrance, but we'll Apparate from inside it when we go to the shops."

I showed her the entrance from the street, it isn't very obvious, and then we stepped back inside and I Apparated us away.

I have never had more fun in my life. Watching Jean's eyes light up when she tried things on, seeing her begin to realize that she really was attractive, delighting in things that were simply pretty, rather than practical, not thinking, not analyzing, just being and feeling.

"You're wearing that one home," I told her. It was short, and low in the front and the back and the skinny straps didn't look up to the task of holding the top up. It was so blue it was purple. The only flaw was that I couldn't convince her to take the really high heels to go with it. She said they hurt her feet, but they made her legs look incredible. I figured I'd just get them for her as a gift sometime.

She was a bit self-conscious wearing that dress in public at first, and she kept hunching her shoulders to avoid being noticed. That didn't work, and when some poor guy turned his head to look at her chest as he passed her and walked right into a lamp post, she laughed and stood up straight.

Hermione knew that knowledge was power, Jean was discovering that she also had power of another kind, and she was enjoying it.

We skipped lunch again; she was too excited to eat and I was having too much fun watching her to care. We took a cab home that afternoon because we had more bags than we could carry. I got some things too, and when we'd gotten everything inside she spread her things out all over her bed, and we had a good time mixing and matching, seeing what went with what.

It was early evening now, and she was still on her shopping high, so I wasn't surprised when she suggested that maybe she'd like to go out after all.

I went and changed, knowing that I wasn't going to have to do much introducing at the club.

Jean was going to kill them.

And I was looking forward to looking.


	6. Chapter 6

Author: Lash_Larue  
Title: "Eventual Envelopment" Chapter 6 of 21

Pairing: Jean/Pansy Jean/Edward this chapter  
Rating: M

Warnings: Het sex, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Language

Word Count:2066

Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling

"Eventual Envelopment"

Chapter Six

"Equestrienne"

She came out of her room anxious and excited; her hair was shining, glorious.

And she looked like a clown.

"Okay," I said, "let's talk a minute."

"Sure," she agreed.

"First off, your hair is perfect." She smiled. "The new dress is perfect, you look like dessert in a very expensive restaurant, Maxime's of Paris, maybe. She smiled wider. "But..." The smile faded. "Would you let me help a little on your makeup?"

She looked closely at my face, and I was confident. I'm no great beauty, but I know how to get the best out of my looks, even my damn nose.

"I went too far, didn't I?" she asked at length.

"Just a bit, yes. Come with me, okay?" She nodded and I took her to my suite and parked her in front of the dressing table. "Close your eyes," I said, and she did.

I grabbed a jar of cleanser and kind of troweled it on, she really had gone too far. She kept still. Her skin was so soft I could barely feel it, and I had to keep reminding myself to tend to business. After I had all the stuff off, I told her to open her eyes.

"It's all gone," she said flatly.

"Right. We need to start from scratch and do what's right for _you_." I traced my finger over the spray of faint freckles. "Never hide these. They're sexy."

"You're barking," she countered.

"Please," I asked her, "trust me just this once. If what I do to you doesn't work, I'll give you a year's free rent. Deal?"

"You're _really_ barking," she replied incredulously.

"Maybe, or maybe I just know what I'm doing. I'll put it in writing if you like." It wasn't really much of a risk for me at all, since I could not have cared less whether or not she paid rent. After last night I would gladly pay her to stay.

She stared at me in the mirror.

"Fine. Go ahead, but if I don't like it I'm not going out," she replied.

"I'm not worried about it," I told her. "Close your eyes."

I used a little mascara and a touch of eyeliner, then just a faint bit of eye shadow that matched the color of her dress. I looked at her carefully, and then applied some clear lip gloss.

"Okay," I said, "have a look," and those chocolate eyes drifted open.

"Oh."

"Yeah. You may be the brightest witch of your age, but Gryffindors aren't known for their subtlety. Now, what sort of guy do you have in mind, because I promise that you'll have your pick."

"Ummm, tall? Handsome?" she said hesitantly.

"Not looks, that will handle itself. What I mean is, out of all the guys that appeal to you, do you want a dominant type? Submissive?"

"Uhhh..."

"Right. I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume that you haven't been with many guys, is that fair?"

"Yes."

"Fine. No names needed, but be frank. How many other than Weasley?"

"One," she said, turning red.

"First of all, that's fine, Jean. Numbers don't matter. Again without names, was one of them better for you sexually than the other? I'm not talking about emotionally, because picking up guys in bars is not about love, and you have to understand that. It's about physical satisfaction."

"Maybe," she admitted.

"Maybe is fine for this too. Would it be fair to say that you're looking for passion more than tenderness tonight?"

"I can't believe that I'm having this conversation, Pansy. It's not like I'll have much choice," she muttered.

"Again, listen to me. You'll have your choice of any man there if you act like you expect it. You're the sexiest woman in the world, if you think you are. Act like it."

"Barking," she muttered.

"Humor me. So, do you want someone who will take instructions or someone who will take charge?"

"I think I'd like someone to take the cue from me, actually," she said after a moment.

"Great. Are you nervous at all?"

"Of course I am, I'm about to get rejected, like usual." I sighed.

"Don't make me slap you, Jean. Then you'd have to hurt me, and I don't like being hurt unless sex is involved." She grinned a little at the quote, and I felt some better. "Your makeup is perfect, your dress is perfect, and you're perfect. Shut the fuck up and listen to me, right?"

"Okay, Pansy. I'll pretend like I believe all that."

"Let's go have a drink at our bar to loosen you up. Never drink anything in the club tonight that I don't hand to you myself, not even if it comes in a sealed bottle or can, understand?" I said firmly.

"Okay, but why?"

"Strangers. Drugs. Got it? Tonight I won't let you hook up with anyone I haven't been with before, but that doesn't make it completely safe. This is for fun, but it's not a game with rules that everyone follows. I've got some wandless spells that can detect that stuff, but I don't have time to teach them to you tonight."

"I've never thought about that before," she admitted.

"Well I have, and I don't want you to learn about it the way that I did, and I don't want to talk about it either. Just pay attention, please," I asked her. She nodded. "I didn't mean to kill your buzz, and really, where we're going it's not likely. Most of these guys are okay, just horny, but it makes sense to be careful, doesn't it?"

"It does, and thanks again. I appreciate your concern," she told me.

We went to the bar and I poured her a shot of Tequila.

"Best to get it in one hard jolt. This is enough to loosen you up without making you stupid, but go slow on the booze once we get there. You don't want to wind up fucking somebody drunk that you wouldn't want to fuck sober. If you ever just feel like getting really plastered again, we'll do it here together, okay?"

"Okay, and thank you," she said, raising her glass

"De nada," I replied. "Did you cast your protective spells?"

"Oops..."

"No oops. _Never_ oops. Every morning, without fail. Write a note on your mirror if you need to. Which ones do you use?" I asked her. She told me. "Great, those are current, I guess you went to the library, huh?"

"I like libraries," she replied, "I'll be right back."

She went to her room to do the spells. You don't have to be naked to do them, but you do have to get kind of personal with the wand. I thought about going to watch her but figured it wouldn't take her long. I was right.

"All set," she reported when she came back.

"Off we go, then. Go get 'em, girl!" She gave me a nervous smile.

We were a little early and the place wasn't really crowded, but we drew our share of attention when we walked in. After she'd danced with a few guys Jean relaxed some, it was obvious that they were really attracted to her and that bolstered her confidence. I did the "come to the loo with me", thing, so we could talk.

"Find one you like yet?" I asked her.

"Richard is attractive, his arms feel good around me, strong."

"He's a good guy, but he's not really suggestible. He's a great choice for hard and fast, though, especially if you like doggie style." She nodded, and the freakishness of the conversation struck me. Here I was in a club restroom helping Hermione Granger pick out a fuck buddy. Well, Jean Granger, but still... "Does Edward do anything for you?"

"He's pretty, and he's a very good dancer."

"Edward likes to be told what to do, and he actually seems to want his partner to enjoy things. But since he'll do what you want him to, that's not a problem anyhow. He's not really big, if that matters to you, but he's in good shape. If you want a second round he's usually good for it," I explained.

"Do you keep notes?" she asked me.

"I notice things, and I have a good memory," I told her. Right now I was remembering things that were warming me up a little too much. Things about her. "If you think he'll do, dance with him again and bring him to our table. I'll get drinks for us."

"I'm a little hungry," she suggested.

"No food, that's our cover story. Invite him to our place for something to eat."

She grinned, and I have to admit that I felt a little jealous of Edward just then.

Once we were home I excused myself and went to my room. I wasn't worried about being missed, and I didn't want to miss anything. I hung up my dress and threw my undies in the chute and tapped my mirror.

They were standing in the middle of the room kissing, and Jean was working on his shirt buttons. She seemed plenty confident to me, and Edward was clearly under the oldest spell in the world.

But it was too damn dark. I needed to tell Jean that it's okay to leave the drapes open. The windows are privacy glass reinforced by magic, you just can't see in from the outside, and I really wanted to see her silhouetted against the city but it was too late for that tonight.

Fortunately Edward excused himself and went to the bathroom, where from the sound of it he took a leak. He also took the trouble to wash his hands and his junk afterwards, which was another thing I liked about him. He's clean. He opened the door to go back into the bedroom and stopped in his tracks, and I couldn't blame him because Jean was standing by the bed mother-naked and the light from the bath made her pale skin shine.

Edward also had sense enough to leave the door open and the bathroom light on, and I really appreciated that.

"You won't need these," Jean told him as she shoved his shorts down, and then he was kissing her throat, her breasts, slowly dropping to his knees in front of her as she urged his head lower and lower.

She spread her legs and I heard her hiss when his tongue found her, just like I did when I touched myself. She had a little frown on her face that let me know he wasn't doing exactly what she needed done, but a moment later the frown was replaced by a fierce look and she pushed him over onto his back, straddled him, and took him inside her.

It was Edward's turn to gasp, and he did, over and over as she rode him, her face set and determined. She was really giving him a workout, and her tits were bouncing all over the place. It looked like it would hurt, but I guess Jean liked the feeling because when he reached up to hold them she pushed his hands away. I could see his cock all wet from her when she rose up, watch it disappear when she drove herself down over it. I was surprised to find, that while I'd rather look at her pussy than almost anything on earth, that watching that cock slide into it kind of spoiled things for me, so I concentrated on her face. And on those beautiful, bountiful, bouncing boobies.

Merlin's ass, she had me thinking in bad alliterative poetry.

I saw it when he came, heard his cry, saw him go rigid for a moment, but she wasn't there yet. I'll give the man credit, he didn't stop her, and I guess he stayed hard enough, because a minute or so later she slammed down on him and shook, grinding herself against him so hard I could see him gritting his teeth.

She stopped moving and stretched, pushing her hair out of her face, and her eyes looked right into mine. I knew she couldn't see me, but I pretended that she could, that she was posing, a living work of art that was painted just for me. She was a goddess, and I came staring at her face and her softly glowing skin, glistening with a faint mist of sweat in the light from the bathroom.


	7. Chapter 7

Author: Lash_Larue  
Title: "Eventual Envelopment" Chapter Seven of ?

Pairing: Jean/Pansy Jean/various, this chapter  
Rating: NC17

Warnings: Language, Het sex, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Obsessive/Compulsive behaviour, Self-destructive behaviour, Girlsex, Possible Triggers

Word Count:4500

Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling

A/N: Some upsetting realizations.

"Eventual Envelopment"

Chapter Seven

"Bitter and Sweet"

I guess Hermione had taught Jean a few things about memory spells all right, because Edward promised to recommend my restaurant to his friends when I walked him to his car. I was pretty sure he was remembering a real restaurant, and one somewhere far from here.

The witch was good, no doubt.

I heard her shower running when I got back, so yeah, I went to look.

She was washing her hair, and it looked like she'd figured out how much to use because there was just a nice lather, it wasn't running everywhere. She didn't linger, so I guessed that the sex had been good enough to take the edge off, anyway. I watched her towel herself off, I had to, I couldn't look away until I saw her pulling on shorts and a t-shirt.

I hurried to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine; I kind of needed a drink. She joined me soon and poured a glass for herself.

"So?" I asked after a couple minutes. She smiled while I was taking a drink, and a little wine ran down my chin. She reached over with a napkin and caught it, and I coughed to cover up the shiver.

"That was kind of fun," she said, "I like being in control, it makes me feel sexy. I've never really felt that way before. I like it."

She did indeed. She went through a bunch of guys that first month, one of them twice. The off days she worked on her room, filling bookshelves mostly, and arranging volume after volume from her bottomless purse. We went shopping when we needed to or just wanted to, but it seemed more like she was resting up between bouts than anything else. I did manage to tell her about the windows, though, and that worked out well for me.

I actually wanked off watching her read "Hogwarts - a History" sitting on her bed wearing a Gryffindor shirt and no pants at all. I bent my rules a little, I guess, but no pants has to count for something.

For me, nothing was as good as that first shower, but watching her on all fours while Richard pounded her from behind and pulled on that thick hair, seeing her tits bounce all over and the look on her face when she came, the night lights of the city behind her...

That was pretty good. She must have thought so too because he got the call-back. Hell, even _I_ was a little sore after the second time.

She didn't come with all of them, and some nights when we hit the clubs she didn't even find one she liked. One bloke got his memory wiped before he got his wick wet. That was fine with me because after she got rid of him she stretched out on her bed and took care of things herself.

I spent my spare time refining my spell so that I could restrict my view to her. I liked it when she showed pleasure, but I really didn't like seeing the man with her. It would not be much of a stretch to say that I hated them for not realizing how special she was. I never saw one of them stare in wonder at the clarity of her skin, never heard one of them remark on her freckles, or pay proper reverence to her breasts.

And she usually seemed to get something from them, and I wanted her to have what she wanted.

But it was starting to hurt, the realization that I couldn't give that to her. Give her what she wanted. It was starting to hurt to know that they were feeling parts of her that I could not, to know that they came inside her leaving something of themselves behind, to know that her softness enveloped them and not me.

It was starting to hurt to watch her, but I needed - I needed to watch her.

And I wanted to touch her, to taste her, but I needed her to want me to do it.

It wasn't fair, but life seldom was, in my experience of it.

"I've been selfish, Pansy, I apologize, it's not fair," she told me one morning as she set out our breakfast.

"Huh?" was the best I could do.

"You haven't been with anyone since I got here, you've just been watching out for me. You must be a little frustrated or something," she explained.

Oh hell no I wasn't, not in the way that she meant, anyway, but I didn't want to explain what was really bothering me, so I settled for a shrug.

"I'm fine, like I said, I don't do it all the time. If you're having fun I'm okay, really."

"How about another getting to know us day? We can go shopping and then I'll fix a nice supper for us, okay?"

"Sounds great," I agreed, and I was truly looking forward to it. I really was a little weary of my role as wingwoman, and we would do well to give the neighborhood places a rest. We'd been everywhere but the dyke bar, and there were only so many bars and clubs around here.

"I know! We can take a tour of the museums, and the Tower! Have you ever done that, Pansy?"

"No," I admitted. "I've been living in the Muggle world since the war, but apart from restaurants, bars, and shopping, I haven't actually been much of anywhere." I didn't much think I'd like it, either, I'm no Ravenclaw, but it had been a while since I'd seen her look excited like this, and I liked that.

Now that I thought about it, she didn't really look all that happy when she was fucking, either.

After breakfast we took a cab and she signed us up for a tour, and I admit that I had a great time. Some of the stuff was interesting, but it was watching her that was fun for me. She knew as much about this Muggle stuff as she did magic, and before too long even the tour guide was listening to her.

We left the group at lunchtime, and were looking around for a place to eat.

"Oh, that's a good place," she said, "I went there with my parents, and-"

She broke off abruptly and the shadow filled her eyes, along with some tears.

"My turn to choose," I told her to cover her distress, "I remember a place my grandmother used to take me." I waved for a cab and she got in beside me without a word.

"The Savoy?" she questioned when we arrived.

"Yeah, is it bad? I thought it was pretty good, but if you'd rather go someplace else, we can."

"It's excellent, Pansy, but I doubt that we can get in, it's always booked, or so I've heard," she told me.

"Grandmother never had any trouble, let's go."

There was a bit of a que waiting to talk to the man with the book, and Jean excused herself and went to the loo. The que moved efficiently and I was at the head of the line soon enough.

He asked for my reservation, and I showed him my ID and gave him some money. When Jean got back he took us straight to a table.

"This was lucky," Jean said, looking around the place, and I was glad to see the sadness gone from her eyes. The food was truly excellent, and I really enjoyed it, but not as much I enjoyed watching her enjoy it.

"Have I got something stuck in my teeth?" she asked me. I guess I was looking too hard.

"No, I was just thinking of something new for your makeup. The lighting in here is different. Dessert?"

After lunch we visited a bookshop, and her eyes lit up. It was even better than lunch.

I had time to wonder what it was about her that fascinated me so, it was more than attraction, although there was plenty of that. It was something other than love, too, I mean, no way I'd fall in love. I just couldn't take my eyes off of her - the way her hair shone, how her breasts shifted heavily when she reached for a book, the sparkle in her eyes when she learned something new. The freckles across her nose.

Every little detail.

We got home and I watched her take a quick shower before I took one myself. She looked happy, and by the time I'd pulled on some comfortable clothes she was rummaging around in the kitchen figuring out what to fix for supper. I opened a bottle of wine for us and the afternoon stretched easily into evening while we reorganized the whole kitchen.

She'd fixed a casually elaborate meal that would be easy to eat while we watched television, and we carried it all over to the coffee table and set it out there. Then we pulled a couple cushions off the couch and sat on the floor to see what was on the telly.

There was a decent comedy, and I opened another bottle, and we enjoyed the supper she had fixed and just sort of vegged out. It was pleasant.

"Why don't you find us a film, Pansy?" she asked. So I brought up the menu, but nothing coming up looked interesting to either one of us. "Are there any adult channels?"

"Porn, you mean?"

"Yes, I've never really seen any. Ron tried to get me to watch some with him once, but I knew it was just his idea of foreplay and I wasn't interested. But I've wondered about blue films," she explained.

"Sure, just a minute," I found the section on the menu and the first thing that came up was some bird taking on three blokes at once.

"Gross, find something else, please," Jean asked after a brief moment. I found something with a couple going at it. "That will do, I suppose," she said, and I leaned against the couch and watched her out of the corner of my eye. I guess I was hoping she'd get turned on and start wanking or something but -

"Why on earth do they keep changing positions so often? They don't seem to be enjoying themselves very much, either."

"Well, they're actors. They're following a script, they probably really aren't enjoying it all that much," I responded.

"He just had an orgasm," she pointed out.

"Yeah, well, he's a guy. Cocks aren't that complicated; if you rub them long enough they go off." The scene changed to another couple.

"She looks angry," Jean commented, "and bored."

"She really does," I agreed.

"I feel that way most times, with the men, fucking them," she said quietly. "I don't respect them, don't even really like them much. I come sometimes, and I know they do, but it's kind of empty even then. And I keep doing it, I keep fucking them."

She poured some more wine.

"I do it for the feeling of power, I guess. I like to see them want me, to know that they'll do anything I tell them to just to get to fuck me. It's not like I'm really giving them any part of myself. I just like to be in control. Is it like that for you?"

"Sometimes," I admitted.

"Do you like sex with women better than sex with men?" she asked, still staring at the screen.

"I like sex with some women better than sex with some men, yes, and I guess I have to admit that if I were forced to pick either men or women forever that it would be women." She nodded.

"Find something with women, please," she requested.

I went through a few channels slowly, waiting for her to tell me to stop.

"There, leave it there, please," she asked.

Two women were wrapped up in a desperate-looking bit of sixty-nine. She watched for a while and then asked me to try and find something else. We were running low on porn channels.

"This one," she said.

A blonde with obviously enhanced boobs was standing with one foot on the arm of a chair while a redhead kneeled in front of her and ate her out.

"Do you like that?" Jean asked.

"I've seen worse porn," I admitted, "at least the blonde seems to realize someone is licking her pussy."

"No, I mean oral sex, do you like it?"

I recognized the tone of voice, she was doing research.

"Overall, yes, I like it," I told her.

"Would you rather perform it or have someone do it to you?"

"Depends on the partner and the circumstances, and how I feel at the time. I don't mind talking about sex, but is this headed somewhere in particular?" I asked her.

"I thought I'd really like it, having someone do that to me, I mean. Ron never did, and of course I couldn't ask him to. Suppose he'd said it was nasty or something? I mean, it's _me_. But I did think it would feel nice; tongues are soft and warm and wet, after all."

The movie wasn't doing much for me, but her turn of phrase was making me uncomfortable.

"Why on earth is she standing like that? That can't be comfortable, although I admit that her balance is admirable." Jean had a point.

"A lot of, if not most of, this hard-core stuff is made mostly for men, the actors are positioned to look sexy and expose the most skin. Even the stuff with just women in it. Hell, maybe _especially_ the stuff with just women in it," I explained, and she nodded. "Some women really like this too, though, and sometimes I see one that kind of turns me on. Everybody is different, regardless of what gender they identify themselves as."

"Have you ever had an orgasm from oral sex?"

"Yes," I answered her.

"I've found it disappointing, frankly. Mostly I felt like the men were doing it because I expected them to, or told them to. Some of them seemed to be following a flow chart. "Kiss lips suck nipple lick pussy fuck. I guess I can't complain, after all, I'm using them too, but I just thought it would be better."

"Not everybody is good at sex."

"So it's technique, skill?" she asked.

"Not exclusively, although it does help to know the terrain, so to speak. For me, and really, I can only tell you about myself. For me it's only really good if I believe that my partner is enjoying doing it. It's a very intimate act, even when it's recreational, and if they act like it's a chore it spoils it for me."

Jean had taken over the remote now, and had found something where the women were at least in a bed.

"Is that really what it's like to have sex with a woman?" she asked.

"Well, they seem to be women, and you'd have to call that sex, so I guess so. I'm sure that somewhere there are two women doing that and really getting off on it, but you have to know there's no definitive answer to that question." It was fascinating to watch her try and organize and analyze something as inherently messy and chaotic as sex, but if anyone could do it, she was the one.

"Are women better at it than men?"

"Better at what?" I was a little lost by now.

"Oral sex."

"Again, some women are better at it than some men. Speaking for myself again, I tend to like it more when it's a woman doing it. Razor stubble can hurt, or maybe I'm just bent that way. Anticipating another question, I would rather go down on a woman than a man. Cocks can be handy, but I really don't much like them in my mouth, but I've known women who liked giving a hummer more than anything else."

She smiled at me.

"Actually, that _was_ going to be my next question. I understand what you mean about different things appealing to different people, that makes sense. Tell me, have you ever seen a film with a sexual relationship between two women that you really thought was arousing? I mean, beyond a momentary whim. I suppose some of what we've seen tonight would be arousing to me if I were already horny, but something more - "real" seeming."

"There's one that gets to me every time," I admitted. "The sex is only a small part of the movie, though. It's more of an action kind of thing, but the relationship is done well, and the actresses are either damn good or really into each other."

"I'd like to see that one," Jean said, so I got up and put "Bound" in the dvd player.

Like I said, that film always gets to me. I think that Jennifer Tilly has the sexiest voice in the world, and her boobs are damn near as nice as Jean's. Jean was paying attention too, and I was shocked when, right after Tilly said _"but you can believe what you feel"_ Jean said -

"You remind me of Gina Gershon. Dark hair, dark eyes, intense, great body."

I had been on the verge of telling her that she reminded me of Jennifer Tilly, mostly because of the tits, but considering what was going on onscreen I decided that in context that maybe now was not the right time to mention it. Like I said, I didn't want her to get the right idea. Besides, I didn't have what she wanted.

"You're barking," I replied, not even trying to mask the incredulity in my voice. "Okay, hair and eyes, maybe, but no way my body looks anything like that."

"I suppose that few people see themselves as they really are," she said in her teaching voice. "Perhaps that's what makes those two so attractive, and you're right, they are either outstanding actresses or there is really something going on between them. Or both, I suppose."

I sort of shifted in my seat a little, and she saw it. The bitch grinned at me.

"It's not all that late, why don't we go find you some company? Boys or girls?" she asked, still grinning.

I didn't have to think about that, I'd seen more than enough cocks to last me for a while, and all that talk about oral sex, and women, and watching those two on the screen had me thinking of someone in particular.

"Girls, and you damn well know it," I said accusingly, and the grin got wider. What a bitch. I loved it. "But I'll go alone. It's not far away, and I'll be fine." I quickly added to that, forestalling her protest, "because if you go with me then nobody will even look at me, and you're right, I'm kind of horny," I admitted.

"Now you're the one barking, but if you don't want me to go, I'll stay." I could see the hurt in her eyes, and I hurt too.

"Jean, I'm serious, like you said, nobody sees themselves as they really are. Okay, I could likely find somebody, but tonight I'm after one girl in particular, and I know she'd want you, okay? I'm asking for a favor, really. I don't want competition tonight. Besides, it will give you time to clean up the place," I said casually, and she grinned again.

"All right then, be selfish," she said with fake indignation.

"Thanks, I plan to be." I hurried to change.

I was back before she had the table cleared. I just put on slacks and a jumper, because the girl I was after was not into fashion. Her name is Sarah, she's a tiny little femmebutch with spiky red hair, and she's a giver. That girl loves eating pussy more than anyone I've ever known. I've seen her come doing me without even touching herself. She likes to kiss, and she likes a good cuddle afterwards, but she has a one-track mind when it comes to sex and tonight I was on the same track.

"That was fast," Jean commented.

"Different place, different sort of outfit." I was glad she'd gotten into the movie, but I was afraid that she was going to wank while I was gone, and that I'd miss it. She had a bit of color in her cheeks that let me know that she was feeling it. I reached for the wine and managed to knock it over.

"Shit! I'll clean it up," I said. Jean reacted like I hoped she would.

"Go, I'll take care of it. I'll have the place spotless before you get back," she promised.

"You're the best," I told her, not meaning what she thought I did, but she smiled, and that was good enough.

_"What the hell,"_ I thought, and I took my nerve in both hands.

"Pursuant to tonight's discussion, if you really want to see a woman come from oral sex, for real, then hide in my closet." I hurried out before she could close her mouth.

I walked fast, and the club was close by. Sarah was leaning against the bar checking out the crowd, and I walked right up to her. There was a real spark between us, and a couple times I had considered not modifying her memory to see if anything would develop, but she'd turn me down just often enough to make me decide not too.

"Hi," I said, standing very close to her.

"Hi yourself," she responded, and I saw her nostrils twitch and her pupils dilate. Sarah really loved the perfume I was wearing. You can't buy it anywhere, so don't ask.

"We don't really have to go through all the bullshit, do we?" I asked in a low voice.

"No we don't," she replied, and I grabbed her hand and fairly dragged her out of the joint.

Her eyes went a little wide when I let her into my place, and I noticed that the table was clear and that there was a slightly dark spot on the rug. There was no sign of Jean, however, and her door wasn't fully closed.

"Would you like something to drink?" I asked her.

"Sure would," she breathed, and she ran her fingers into my hair and kissed me.

It really had been a while since I'd been kissed, and Sarah could kiss. She could kiss anything and she usually kissed everything, at least briefly. The moan that passed my lips was real, and I almost just dropped to the floor, but just in case... just in case, I broke away and led her into my bedroom. Someone had thoughtfully turned the covers down, but it wasn't cold, and just in case - I threw the covers onto the floor and then Sarah tackled me.

I might have mentioned that it had been a while, and I admit that if I had been offered the choice I would rather have watched Jean in the shower, but this was so _warm_. Sarah's skin wasn't as soft as Jean's, but it wasn't sandpaper, either, and it felt good against mine after the clothes were gone, and her lips and tongue felt good on mine, and on my neck, my tits, my belly, my - my back arched as her tongue pushed its way inside me. I came right away, but if she noticed she didn't even pause, and that was okay with me. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine that it was Jean's mouth on me, Jean's tongue, Jean's teeth.

I grabbed the short hair and pulled her to me and I knew that it was Sarah, but that was okay because Sarah already had me panting again. I looked down at her, and I could tell that she was kind of swept up in things too, because I could see that one of her hands was busy between her legs. I wondered if Jean was watching, and I looked for a shadow behind the louvers in the closet door, but the room was dim and the closet was dark. I wondered what she would have thought, seeing what Sarah was doing to me, and to herself, because I could hear the wet sound Sarah's fingers were making. I was just about to come again, but Sarah realized it this time and slowed down, eased the pressure, and she looked up at me as she slowly licked me.

"Please," I whispered, and she took my clit in between her lips and sucked on it. Once again I pulled her to me, and when I was ready to come I sat halfway up, staring at the closet door, wondering, hoping for some small sign that she was there.

There was nothing, and then my eyes closed and I shook violently.

When my eyes opened I grabbed her hair again and pulled her upwards. She dragged her tongue up the length of my body and then stuck it in my mouth. I sucked on it, tasting myself, and her tongue vibrated in my mouth when she groaned in response.

Sarah could get what she needed just by eating me, with maybe a little help from her hands. But tonight that wasn't quite enough for me, and I wrapped my arms around her and rolled on top of her.

She smiled. Like I said, there was a spark between us.

"I'm not done with you yet," I promised her, and I tugged on her bottom lip with my teeth before I kissed her. "Hold on, little one, it's time for the big girl to play."

I hoped she was watching, because I wanted her to see me. I wanted her to want what I was giving Sarah.

Her skin was salty to the taste, and she mewed when my teeth closed on her nipple and pulled. I remembered just how much pain was enough for her, just enough to set her nerves on fire without killing the pleasure.

I cupped her sex in my hand and pressed, grinding against her while I licked and sucked and nibbled her breasts, chewed down the length of her body. I loved the taste of her, the feel of her tiny yet strong body beneath mine.

I hoped that she was watching as Sarah opened to my fingers, and pressed herself into my mouth. I hoped that she was watching when Sarah's fingers twined into my hair. I hoped that she could hear the strangled cry from Sarah's lips when she wrapped her legs around me and pulled me to her while her orgasm stretched on and on.

I hoped that she was watching. But I wished that she wanted _me_.

"Damn, you were great," Sarah said softly as she wrapped her arms around me.

"Thanks, so were you," I told her, and I held her for some time before I got my wand, because it really did feel good to be held.


	8. Chapter 8

Author: Lash_Larue  
Title: "Eventual Envelopment" Chapter 8 of 21

Pairing: Jean/Pansy Jean/Sarah this chapter  
Rating: M

Warnings: Femmesex, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Obsessive/Compulsive behaviour, Self-destructive behaviour, Angst, Suicidal Thoughts

Word Count:2625

Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling

A/N:Possible triggers include thoughts of suicide. Again, if you have not read the poem referenced in the first chapter, doing so will help explain where this comes from and why it is not my usual fluff.

"Eventual Envelopment"

Chapter 8

"That Hurt"

I woke to the smell of breakfast cooking. That was a comforting feeling, and I stretched languorously before getting up and visiting the bathroom and throwing on a t-shirt and shorts. I padded barefoot to the kitchen.

"Sleep well?" Jean asked, pouring me a cup of tea. It was nice, having someone greet me in the morning.

"Sure did, and thanks for understanding about last night. I hope you don't feel like I ran out on you or something."

"Of course not, as I said, I have been very selfish since moving in here. How do you want your eggs?" she asked me, and that was nice too.

"However is easiest." She handed me a plate in a few minutes and sat down, sipping her tea and keeping me company.

She didn't ask me how it had gone, and I got no clues from her actions about whether or not she had watched us last night. Maybe that just wasn't her thing. I couldn't very well ask her, either. But breakfast was good.

So was the weather, and after we had cleared up the breakfast dishes we sat out on the terrace in the sunlight.

She had a stack of books, and I had some family business to attend to, and before we knew it, it was lunchtime.

We went to a grungy little pub I knew where the beer was good and the fish and chips would burn your mouth if you weren't careful. Everyone's spirits were lifted by the fine weather and the drunks were even singing on key. There was not even a hint of shadow in her eyes when she smiled at me.

I have had worse lunches. Most of them, really.

"I need to figure out what to do with my life," Jean said, kind of out of the blue.

We were back on the terrace; it really was a glorious day.

"I take it that going back to the Ministry is out?" I asked her.

"Absolutely. I'm sure they would take me back, and I'm sure they would remind me of how forgiving they were for the rest of my life. Frankly, as much I love magic, as fascinating as I find it, I'm not even sure that I want to go back to that world at all. It has cost me much," she told me earnestly, and the shadow was back in her eyes.

I thought about what she had said, and I wasn't sure it was exactly right to blame her problems with her parents on the magical world at large. By now I knew that this was a big part of the shadow in her eyes, what she had done to protect her parents and how they were now so scared of her. I didn't think it would help anything to tell her that, though, so I kept quiet on the subject.

"You have time. I guess I should be thinking about that too, but I don't really care to. I have never actually been expected to be anything other than an incubator, and that's not a career that interests me. I'm really lucky that my grandmother took such good care of me."

There was an awful lot about my grandmother that Jean didn't know, very few people knew, in the magical word. My grandmother was technically a Muggleborn witch, a mudblood, and she had loved me like my parents never had.

The fact that I had derided people for that same origin even when I knew better just goes to show how fucked up I am. I guess there was likely a shadow in my eyes too, sometimes, had anyone cared to notice.

"This is too nice a day to actually think," I said, trying to lighten the mood. "Come on, let's find a book shop and you can buy me dinner at Ananda's."

"You're on," she replied, and even if her enthusiasm was forced the shadow in her eyes was a little less dark.

Every little detail.

The book shop yielded no treasures, but books always cheered her up, and at dinner the food and the atmosphere cheered both of us up, and we enjoyed the long walk home. We also both decided that after the rich dessert that the playground was best left to the kiddies this time.

We sat out on the terrace until the yawns were the only thing keeping us awake, and then I watched her brush her teeth while I brushed mine. I watched her change into her pajamas and crawl into her bed and I wondered what she was thinking about while she fell asleep.

I fell asleep thinking of her, just like usual.

XXXXX

"I'd like to go out tonight," Jean informed me.

"Sure, do you have any particular place in mind, or do you just want to go on a bar crawl?"

"Didn't you say the other night that you knew of a girl who would be attracted to me?" she asked.

"I did," I assured her.

"I think - I think I'd like to try that."

I had to admit that I was relieved. I really didn't want to see her with a man, and it just wasn't like I wouldn't look.

"Okay. Come on, let's make it happen," I told her, and I headed for her room.

"Because you're trying to attract one specific girl we should pick your clothes to suit her tastes. Your own taste will be just fine for her, I'm sure."

"Pansy!" she exclaimed, giving me a little shove. She actually blushed, too.

"Serves you right for teasing me the other night. Here," I said handing her a jumper and some jeans.

"These pants are a little tight right now," she kind of mumbled.

"I hope so," I countered. "Here," I said again, tossing her a Gryffindor tie. She arched a brow. I liked it when she did that. "Gryffindor colors won't mean a thing in there, but she'll like the look, just tie it kind of loosely around your neck and let it hang. I'll go and get changed myself."

"Okay, and thanks, I think," she told me, still looking doubtfully at the jeans.

I turned back to her from the doorway. "Pull the pants up as high as they will go."

She might have blushed again, but I didn't see her. I hurried to my room and grabbed the first outfit I came to and took it into the bathroom.

My haste was rewarded when I saw her sitting naked at her dresser brushing her hair. It killed me, watching her brush her hair, but I was holding out for even more from tonight. She put her makeup on like I'd taught her, and then tackled the pants.

That was great.

She had decided to go commando, and she had to lie on her bed to get them on.

That was _really_ great.

She made a face at the little bit of flesh that bulged at top of her pants, but pulling them way up minimized that. It didn't bother me at all and I knew it wouldn't bother Sarah in any way other than the good kind. She pulled her jumper on and when she reached for her tie I cleared my mirror so that I could use it for its secondary function.

"You look great," I told her.

"I look horrid. I have camel-toe."

"Perfect, let's go," I replied, grinning.

I was looking forward to this.

We walked slowly to the bar once we were inside the club, letting our eyes adjust to the dim light, and I got us a couple of drinks. I was pleased to see Jean's lips move as she whispered the detection spell. You can't be too careful.

"Is she here?" Jean asked.

"Yes, third table from the bar, on our right. The little redhead, not the blonde."

"She's cute. She's also with someone. Do you have a plan "B"?"

"Nope, just the one plan. Plan "P". Just stand here looking at her and give it a little time." I had already seen Sarah spot Jean, and I was pretty sure she and the blonde weren't going to get along all that well.

"What do I do if she comes over here? I've never tried to pick up a girl before," Jean asked nervously.

"Let her pick you up. If she asks if you want to go someplace else, just take her home."

"And if she doesn't ask?" I shrugged.

"Then she doesn't, you know how this goes by now. It just feels different because she's a girl, but that's the biggest difference. If you're attracted to her let her know it, that's all." Sarah had already started leaning back in her chair, and I could tell that the blonde was reading her as well as I was. She said something to Sarah and left. "Here she comes," I told Jean. "I'll move away a little. I'll give you a head start and get home the short way, just in case."

"Is that really necessary? I mean, you sort of know her, you could stay and see if anyone appeals to you," Jean suggested.

"We stick to the plan and we watch out for each other. I know her with me, sort of. I don't know her with you at all." But I sure wanted to.

"Thanks, Pansy," she said sincerely.

"My pleasure," I said with equal sincerity.

It didn't take long. Sarah's eyes roamed all over Jean before they settled on her crotch, and even in the dim light her pupils were large by the time she got there.

"I haven't seen you here before, why is that?" Sarah asked, and her interest could not have been more plain.

"I live nearby," Jean told her, "would you like to go to my place for a drink?"

"Sure would," Sarah answered.

I ducked into an alley and Apparated home. It wasn't long before I heard the chime of the elevator and then the sound of the door. I heard some muffled talk, and when I heard the other bedroom door open and close I stepped into my bath and tapped the mirror.

Sarah took hold of Jean's tie and pulled her head down so that she could reach her lips. I heard this little sound from Jean, and without breaking the kiss she put her arms around Sarah and lifted her up. Sarah wrapped her legs around Jean and kissed along her jaw line while Jean backed up until her legs hit the bed.

Then she fell back onto it carrying Sarah with her, and somehow Sarah managed to get her legs unwrapped so that they weren't pinned. Then she went to work like she meant it.

I decided that I was over-dressed, and so I peeled off my clothes while I watched Sarah push the jumper off over Jean's head. She sat up briefly, threw off her own top and then lowered her mouth to those gorgeous tits and _finally_, finally, somebody was giving them the sort of attention they deserved.

I thought mine deserved a little attention too, and even though they were nowhere near as impressive as Jean's, they were very appreciative.

So was Jean, and it wasn't all that long before I saw the little tremble that I knew meant she was close. Sarah pulled a nipple with her teeth, stretching it, and I heard Jean gasp when she let it slip through her teeth. She knelt between Jean's legs, and I watched Jean's breasts shaking as she gasped for breath, they were shining wetly in the light from the window.

Sarah started gnawing on her right through her pants, and Jean's back bowed sharply, and I heard the little cry when she came. I slipped a finger into myself slowly while I watched Sarah peel the tight pants from Jean, who was kind of liquid just then. Jean managed to raise her hips to help out, and I could see her staring at Sarah while Sarah gently caressed Jean's vulva with her delicate fingers, softly stroking her inner thighs, easing the reddened places where her pants had been tight, spreading the growing wet.

She replaced her fingers with her mouth, licking softly, kissing, slowly sucking the labia into her mouth. Jean's breathing was shallow, little jerky breaths that in time took up the same rhythm as the licks, the kisses.

My point of view shifted to the side, Jean's legs slid farther apart as the kissing and licking and sucking continued, and her hands drifted to her breasts, rubbing them like she had that night in the shower, and I added another finger and twisted them deep inside me.

Sarah flattened her tongue out over Jean's pussy and gave it a long, slow, lick with plenty of pressure, ending by flicking her clit with the tip of her tongue, and a deep moan came from Jean.

It shook my bones.

She tucked her arms under Jean's hips, lifted them, then forced her tongue into her as far as she could get it, and Jean just fell apart.

She yelled something I couldn't quite make out, grabbed Sarah's head, and held on while Sarah just absolutely devoured her. She rubbed her face in Jean like it was on fire and that was the only way to make the burning stop.

I came so hard that I dropped to my knees, and I had to pull myself back up to see.

I just stood there panting, staring at Jean's breasts as they bounced, staring at her face, beautifully suspended in that moment of agony just before she came again. Staring at Sarah's face when she lifted it at last, staring at the shiny wet that had come from Jean, staring as they kissed long and slow.

Staring, staring - and weeping like I never remembered doing before. Great, wracking, sobs that tore my throat, spitting out the stuff that poured down my face from my eyes and nose and into my gasping mouth because this, _this_ was something that Jean really loved.

And this was something that I _could_ give her. I knew that, because however much Sarah might have loved doing that to her it wasn't half so much as I would have loved it. I could give her what she wanted, clearly wanted.

But she didn't want it from me.

The chime of the elevator let me know that Sarah was gone. I had no idea what time it was, or how long Sarah had stayed. I turned on the tap and rinsed my messy, blotchy, swollen, red-eyed face and waited until Jean returned. She dropped the clothes that she had put on to see Sarah off and just collapsed naked onto her bed.

It was the first time since she had moved in that I had ever walked away from the sight of her naked. But no matter how beautiful she looked, my knowing that the look of absolute completion on her face and the remnants of what had happened to put it there were just not ever going to come from me...

That hurt; every little detail hurt, and I was tired, so tired, so I turned away and crawled brokenly under my covers and let the dark take me. I fell asleep thinking not of Jean, but of the small bottle of poison I had taken with me when I fled the war. The one I'd taken in case I got caught by the wrong people. I still wasn't sure who the wrong people would have been for me back then, but it was settling in my mind that now I was the wrong person for her, and that - that hurt.


	9. Chapter 9

Author: Lash_Larue  
Title: "Eventual Envelopment" Chapter 9 of 21

Pairing: Jean/Pansy Jean/Various this chapter  
Rating: R

Warnings: Femmesex, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Obsessive/Compulsive behaviour, Self-destructive behaviour, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence

Word Count:2250

Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling

A/N:Possible triggers include thoughts of suicide.

"Eventual Envelopment"

Chapter Nine

"Mirror, Mirror"

I woke to the still surprising smell of cooking, and I dragged myself out of bed with barely a glance at the bedside table with the secret drawer where I kept the poison. It was there if and when I gave up for good.

I was glad that I had managed to clear the mirror last night, I would have hated to miss the sight of me in it this morning, because it did a great job of waking me up. I looked like an inferi.

The shower helped some, and a little makeup did wonders on the dark circles under my eyes, and I purposely picked some bright clothes to wear. I made myself smile as I looked in the mirror and while I was no better-looking than usual I wasn't really scary anymore.

"Good morning Pansy," she greeted me, and the smile she gave me helped more than anything else had. What the hell, beggars and choosers. "I hope you like French toast, I've got everything ready, sit, and I'll fetch your tea. Did you sleep well?"

"Like a dead woman," I told her.

"Me too," she replied, looking like the cat after the cream. "Thank you for helping me out last night. It was - it was more like what I had imagined it would be like. You're right, it makes a difference if your partner seems to really want to do it."

"No problem," I replied briefly. I was happy that she'd had a good time, but I didn't really want to talk about it just yet.

"Moving in here with you is the best thing that has happened to me since I found out I was a witch," she told me sincerely. I could feel my stupid heart leap when she said it.

"For me too," I replied. Sadly, what I had told her was true, in spite of the hurt. She did really seem to like me, and it surely wasn't her fault that it hurt me to see her with another woman, much less that I could not forebear looking. Nor was it like she had invited me to look.

Breakfast was great, and that helped a little too, and by the time we had taken care of the dishes I didn't mind being alive.

"How about another getting to know us day?" she suggested

"Okay, great," I answered.

It turned out pretty great, I had so much fun watching her be embarrassed in the adult bookstore we found that I nearly wasn't disappointed, knowing that whatever she came out with wasn't going to used with me. It also was funny when she realized that it was more of a toy store than a book store, but given the literary and educational merits of most of that stuff I had glanced through that was perhaps just as well.

"That's my parent's office," she pointed out as the cab passed a fairly modern building.

"Do you want to stop by?"

"Best not to bother them at work," she replied quickly, and the shadow fell over her face.

We got some lunch things at a deli and carried them to a little park, and ate while we watched other people doing what they were doing. It was not one of those beautiful sunny days, but at least it wasn't raining and the temperature was comfortable.

We didn't talk much, but by the time we were packing up our trash to put in the bin her face had cleared considerably, and that made me feel better. I didn't even mind going to a few museums, and I enjoyed learning from her nearly as much as she seemed to enjoy teaching me.

"This was my first school," she told me, pointing to a building we were passing, "where did you go before Hogwarts?" she asked me.

"Nowhere, I had a governess who served as a teacher. I spent my early childhood in heavily warded, Muggle-shielded areas."

"Oh. Was it fun?"

"Not so much, no. If we're going out tonight we'd better get back," I said, not wanting to continue the current discussion.

"Oh, you're right!"

XXXXX

I had thought that she went a little overboard with the guys, but that was nothing next to the way she went through women.

She didn't pick them up, she _hunted _ them, and on the rare occasions that she was turned down she moved on without looking back.

The more women she had the angrier she seemed to get. She was long past being shy now, and I actually saw her walk up to a girl and take her by the hand without a single word, take her home and reduce her to jelly. I doubt that Jean ever knew her name.

Oddly, that made it easier for me, because it didn't really look like she was getting what she wanted. Not like it had with Sarah, and I have to admit that it wasn't much of a turn-on for me either. I watched, but a lot of times I didn't even take my shoes off.

And she always fixed breakfast for me, no matter how late she had been up. She always smiled when she saw me, seemed happy to be with me. But she never wanted me sexually, no matter how much of that special perfume I wore.

We went out to lunch often, and to Ananda's on occasion, and she always seemed happy, but the cloud never went away altogether.

I'd stare at the bottle of poison some nights, but the thought of seeing her fixing breakfast, smiling at me - I didn't have the strength to lose that, that one bit of light. Not yet, anyway.

It was a rare evening at home, and Jean had spent the afternoon giving me cooking lessons. She looked happier teaching me than she usually did having sex. I fixed supper for us, and I was feeling pretty good and rather pleased with myself. She even said that it was good. For a Gryffindor, she surely could lie with a straight face.

We watched a couple of comedies, and we were on our second bottle of wine when Jean started cruising through the porn channels. She flipped through them rapidly before stopping on a channel where one woman was screwing another from behind using a strap-on.

She watched for a while, her face neutral, and then she asked me - "Have you ever done that?"

"A few times," I admitted.

"Did you like it?"

I shrugged, but she wasn't looking at me, so I told her that it wasn't really my thing, but was pretty good on occasion. Actually, I kind of liked it.

"I want a purple one," she stated.

"Okay." That was my stock answer now whenever she asked for something. Just, 'okay'. "Pansy, want to eat at the pub?" Okay. "Pansy, let's go to the park." Okay. "Pansy, drink this hemlock." Okay...

She never asked me to do that, though. She just wanted me to take her shopping for a purple dildo to use on someone besides me.

She did not seem the least bit embarrassed asking the clerk for the thing, she didn't even notice that he was nearly slobbering on her tits.

I did though, and I'll bet he still doesn't remember his own name. I'm really good with memory charms now, wand or no.

We went out that night to a place that was kind of near the sex shop. The patrons were maybe a little rougher-looking than in our usual places, but the drinks were good and they weren't drugged. There was also a blonde there with the longest hair I had ever seen. It was in two thick braids and it _still_ hung down to her knees. She was sort of pretty, and she was dancing with a big woman it would be fair to call butch. She reminded me of Goyle, to tell you the truth.

Jean asked to cut in, and the big woman yielded fairly pleasantly. No doubt she was distracted by Jean's boobs, but to be fair, they were kind of apparent in the top she was wearing.

The blonde noticed the breasts too, and her friend didn't like it one bit when she rested her cheek on them.

"That's enough, Astrid, come on," she said, laying her hand on the girl's shoulder.

"I'd say that was her decision, wouldn't you?" Jean said flatly.

I felt a tickle of apprehension at the look on Jean's face, and I was hoping the butch would just back off, but...

"Nobody was talking to you, bitch. Why don't you take your big knockers someplace else? If those words were too big for you, step out back and I'll explain them to you."

Jean smiled.

"Oh, would you? That's ever so kind of you, do please lead the way."

Oh, shit.

Butch dragged her girl, if she really was her girl, down a hallway towards the back of the place. A few other women followed, most of them looking pretty excited and expectant, and I was guessing they had seen this act before. The bartender just looked bored.

I stepped in front of Jean just as we reached the hallway.

"Don't do this, it's not worth it," I asked her.

"She doesn't own that girl. I think she likes me, and I really like her hair."

"Jean..."

"Move aside, Pansy, please. I can't walk away from this, I'm all through being pushed around, by anyone."

"Okay then, but I'll hold your wand." She hesitated. "If it gets out of hand I'll stun the lot of them and then obliviate them, but I am under no illusions that I can remove a hex you cast if you get really angry."

"Fine," she said brusquely, and she handed me her wand, and I moved aside.

We exited the building and found ourselves in a trash-strewn alley. The big woman was swinging her arms around getting loose, and the spectators looked at Jean with grins on their faces. Astrid was nearly quivering with excitement, her eyes sparkling. Her nipples were even getting hard, the little freak.

"Kick her ass, Dot," said one of the spectators, and the sentiment was echoed by most of the others present.

Dot stepped towards Jean and began describing the things she was going to do to her. She was still talking when Jean swung one of those gorgeous legs and kicked Dot in the crotch so hard her feet came off the ground. Even if there weren't any testicles in her pants, that had to hurt, and she fell to the ground groaning and holding her crushed bits.

"Coming, Astrid?" Jean asked, and it looked like she was to me.

We took a cab home, and in my mirror I saw why Jean had picked this one.

Those braids served really well as both reins and a whip, and after the pounding that Jean gave her with that purple thing I wouldn't have taken a bet either way on whose twat was sorer, Astrid's or Dot's.

I doubt that it was even necessary to use the memory charm on her, but I do admit that I never heard her say "stop", only "harder", and Jean always found a way to accommodate her. I also admit that it was pretty hot, with the sweat running down their faces and Jean's breasts bouncing wildly, and Astrid screaming "harder". It was almost like it wasn't Jean, and that made it somewhat easier for me. I hardly cried at all.

After she sent Astrid home, Jean threw the thing in a drawer and I never saw it again. She took a shower and masturbated roughly, and it had been so long since I had seen her wank that I was right there with her.

I slept okay, but in the morning Jean didn't look like she had slept well at all.

But she smiled when I entered the kitchen, and she had my breakfast waiting for me.

It was nice, but ultimately confusing, and I was starting to worry about her. This wasn't the Jean I had watched in the shower her first night here, never mind Hermione.

After that she seemed to go out of her way to get in trouble. She'd cut in without asking, move in on women whose companions were off getting drinks or whatever, just about anything. Most often the women backed down, because the look on her face was frankly frightening. Sometimes they didn't back down, and Jean never did. She got hurt some, but she never backed down and she never quit.

We were getting ready to go out one evening, and I was watching as usual while she got ready. She poked around under her sink for a while, naked, and that was fun. Then she said, "Oh, bother," put on her robe, and left the bathroom. I saw her leave her bedroom, and then I heard her rummaging around in the kitchen, so I went to my dresser to put on my makeup.

I heard a knock on my door and she came in.

"Excuse me, Pansy, but I forgot to get soap today, and there's nothing in the kitchen but dish stuff. If it's okay I'll borrow some from you and replace it tomorrow."

"Sure, help yourself, new bars are under the sink," I answered automatically.

By the time I remembered that I hadn't cleared the mirror, it was too late. I heard her voice calling from the bath.

"Pansy?"


	10. Chapter 10

Author: Lash_Larue  
Title: "Eventual Envelopment" Chapter 10 of 21

Pairing: Jean/Pansy  
Rating: R

Warnings: Voyeurism, Masturbation, Obsessive/Compulsive behaviour, Self-destructive behaviour, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence

Word Count:2200

Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling

A/N:Possible triggers include thoughts of suicide.

"Eventual Envelopment"

Chapter Ten

"Bottoming Out"

I had my hand on the latch to the hidden compartment when she called again. It was a near thing, but I owed it to her to take whatever she wanted to give me, so I left it closed. I'd been caught out; there would be time after she was gone to call my solicitor and leave all my shit to her before I drank my little friend.

I took a shaky breath and walked into the bath. Jean was standing there, looking into the mirror, seeing her bedroom. I stepped up beside her and stared into the sink.

"Is that my room? I mean, I know this must be your mirror, but am I looking into my room?" she asked.

I risked a quick glance at her, and she looked more curious than anything else, but I simply could not face those eyes.

"Yes," I croaked, watching as my tears splashed into the sink.

"Some sort of spell? A charm of some kind?"

"Yes," I had to sniff a bit, things were bad enough without her seeing my stupid nose running.

"You've been watching me?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"Ever since you came here," I whispered, "since the very first night."

She was silent for a time, and I waited, staring at the sink drain and wishing that I could pour myself down it. I was kind of hoping she would hit me, frankly, beat me until the bright pain drove out this horrible numbness.

"But - why? Whatever for?" she asked.

"Because I can't help it. I need to," I admitted.

There was another silence, then -

"Oh."

That's all she said, just "oh". My nose was dripping now, but what the fuck, I doubted that a bit of snot was going to make her think any less of me at this point. Likely the snot ranked higher in her opinion, I suppose it at least serves a purpose.

I felt it when she left, heard her quiet footsteps walking away, and I raised my face to the mirror. I stared at her empty room and waited for her to walk into it and spell all her stuff into that bottomless bag and leave. Waited for the sound of the door and the elevator to take her out of my life forever while I planned what to tell my solicitor and where to leave the letter that would make it all legal.

"Here," she said, and I turned to see her holding out a glass of wine. She had another for herself, and a bottle. "I thought maybe you could use a drink."

I hadn't seen this coming, but she wasn't wrong, and I took the glass.

"Thanks," I managed to get out.

"Tell me about the spell."

"Okay," I replied, and I did. It took a while, because I told her everything. I explained to her how I could control it once it was activated, how the point of view changed according to my desires, how I could restrict the field of view, how the toilet alcove was not visible, and why it was that she had not detected it.

It was perhaps the most bizarre experience of my life, standing there sipping wine with her while I gave her the details of how I had invaded her privacy and violated her trust. She would ask the occasional question in that research tone of voice and I would explain things as completely as I could.

Finally I was done, and I emptied my glass and resumed studying the sink drain.

"Pansy, you are unbelievable," she said calmly, and my shoulders hunched, waiting for what had to come next.

"This is the most sophisticated magic I have ever seen," she told me, admiration evident in her voice.

"Huh?" That's what I said; "huh?", and I looked up at her while she refilled my glass.

"Do you watch me having sex?" she asked, and I realized that she wasn't done with me yet.

"Yes."

"Does that arouse you?" she continued, and I was starting to think that I had drunk the poison after all, that I was dead or dying and this was some strange afterlife.

"Yes," I answered. That answer I wasn't going to elaborate on, even if I was dead I wasn't going to tell her about the pain it also caused me.

"Do you ever masturbate while you watch me?"

_Oh dear God..._

"Yes."

"You come? You have orgasms doing this?"

"Yes."

She emptied her second glass, and I did too, and she split the remaining wine between us.

"What's better for you, more arousing, watching me with a man or a woman?"

"By yourself," I mumbled, "it's better for me when you're by yourself, especially that first night in the shower."

"All right then," she said softly. "I think we'll stay in tonight, you're in no condition to go out. Wash up a bit and then come and help me with supper, won't you?"

She took the empty glasses and the bottle and left.

Like I said, bizarre.

I cleared the mirror, washed my face, changed into some grubbies and went out to the kitchen. Jean was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and was busy with supper.

"Oh, good," she greeted me, "would you do the salad? I thought spaghetti would be nice."

"Okay."

She didn't mention the mirror or our conversation in my bathroom at all. We ate supper, and it was great, and we had another bottle of wine, and we watched some mindless crap on the telly.

I woke up to the smell of breakfast cooking, and I realized that she had given me a dreamless sleep potion. She was maybe smarter than I thought.

She smiled when I walked into the kitchen, and she handed me my tea, and it wasn't until I sat down to eat that I noticed the blue shampoo bottle on the table. I cringed, but I didn't say anything, and she didn't either. We just had breakfast together like usual, and cleared up after, also like usual.

"Want to do anything in particular today?" I asked, still frankly uncertain just how things stood.

"I think I'll have a shower," she answered me, looking straight into my eyes. Then she picked up the shampoo and went into her room, shutting the door behind her.

In a daze, I walked into my bathroom and tapped the mirror.

Jean entered her bathroom and disappeared, and after a bit I heard the toilet flush. She walked to her sink, naked from the waist down, and brushed her teeth. She stared into the mirror and pulled her shirt off, and then reached into her shower and started the water.

She stepped into it, and stood under the water, turning her face up to the spray, brushing her wet hair off of her face. She stepped back, and I knew that she knew I was watching as she filled her hand with the shampoo, watching as the thick lather exploded under her fingers and ran down her face. Watching as she rubbed her hair over her chest, watching as she massaged her breasts, her fingers slipping over the soft skin, teasing the nipples shining pink within the ice blue foam.

She knew that I was watching as she lifted her breast to her mouth, watching as her tongue circled the nipple, watching as her teeth closed over it.

She knew that I was listening to the moan as she covered her mound with the thick stuff, sliding down the shower wall, and she knew that my fingers were sliding into myself as she pushed her own inside of her, she knew that I was coming right along with her.

And I knew, too. I knew that she was being so passionate, so wanton, so _open_, just for me. Every little detail was for me, and it was beyond beautiful, beyond any dream that I had ever had.

And I knew that the best part of my life was a virtual pity-fuck in an enchanted mirror, and the tears ran down my face even as I screamed out my completion.

XXXXX

She continued to burn through women, with the occasional man thrown in, and her anger just seemed to build. It was a rare occasion when she even seemed really aware of who she was with. Now and again the blue bottle would be on the table at breakfast, or lunch, even at supper, rarely.

And I would always drink in the sight of her, but we never spoke of it, not ever.

We were in a pretty nice club when it happened, and it wasn't really Jean's fault.

She was sitting at our table while I went to get us some drinks, and a woman sat down beside her and made her interest clear. Extremely clear, and before I could get back to the table some bitch came over and slapped Jean across the mouth without saying a word.

The place went silent; this wasn't a place where violence was the norm. I ran back to the table, there was blood running from Jean's mouth and the woman who had hit her was standing right beside her glaring at her.

"Stand up, you cunt," she spat, "I'm not done with you yet."

Jean didn't say a word, she just handed me her purse, which I knew contained her wand, stood up, and proceeded to beat the living shit out of the woman who had hit her. I tried to break it up but caught an elbow in the chest that stunned me, and then the club security was there and it was over. Those guys were professionals, and they were strong as hell, and they had Jean wrapped up without hurting her before I could catch my breath.

The other woman did not need restraint. In fact for a moment I thought that she might need resuscitating. Then the cops got there and slapped the cuffs on Jean, and hauled her off.

I called my solicitor, who had been my grandmother's solicitor, and gave him the short version. Then I started listing the names of witnesses.

I should explain something here.

My grandmother's family has influence.

I try not to trade on it, I don't feel really entitled to do so because I have not yet done something that I know she really wanted me to. Once again I have failed to meet expectations. Well, hopes, more like, even dreams. But they were my grandmother's hopes and dreams, and that mattered to me.

But now Jean was in trouble, and I called him.

The cops took Jean away, and the paramedics hauled off the bint who had started this shit. Then three men in Saville Row suits arrived, and the oldest of them, a very elegant man with grey hair and sharp eyes walked up to me and bowed.

The two younger men grabbed my witnesses and sat them down, while Bertram put an arm around me and promised me that he would take care of everything. He had been my grandmother's personal solicitor, and it was Bertram who had come to inform me of her death. He was the closest thing I had to a proper father, and I was glad to see him.

The younger men worked efficiently, and it was not long before Bertram assisted me into the waiting car and we swept off to the police station.

I'm not sure how it works in other places, but here, when a Rolls Silver Cloud carrying the senior partner of the oldest law firm in England pulls up in front of a local police station, people pay attention.

Bertram did not bluster, he never did, he politely asked to see the officer in charge and presented him with several statements from eyewitnesses who had testified to the effect that Jean had been attacked first, and without provocation. He said a lot of things that I only vaguely understood, but the cop sure did, and he looked over at me nervously.

Bertram and his firm had been smoothing over the peccadilloes of their client's younger family members for centuries, and they were good at it. I knew Jean would be found innocent, but I didn't want this to go to trial, I wanted it eradicated, and so I had used every tool available to me. I owed my grandmother another one.

"This officer will take you to your friend, Mistress Pansy," Bertram said when he rejoined me. "The captain wanted me to express his sincere apologies for the precipitate actions of his men in incarcerating the young lady." He gave me a small smile, and the cop anxiously escorted me to where Jean was being held.

She was sitting huddled in a corner, hugging her knees to her chest. The cop opened the door and gestured for me to proceed, and I went to her and knelt beside her. She raised her tear-streaked eyes to mine.

"I don't want to be like this," she sobbed.

"Okay," I said softly.


	11. Chapter 11

Author: Lash_Larue  
Title: "Eventual Envelopment" Chapter 11 21

Pairing: Jean/Pansy  
Rating: R

Warning * After- effects of traumatic events

Word Count:2740

Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling

A/N: Not quite puppies and kittens, but decisions are made.

"Eventual Envelopment"

Chapter Eleven

"Surfacing"

Bertram dropped us off at home, and I thanked him sincerely. Jean thanked him as well, but she was clearly mortified.

"Think nothing of it, Miss. You were the victim of an assault, and you merely defended yourself. Quite capably, I might add. Should you wish to pursue legal action against your assailant, Her Gr-" he coughed to cover the slip, and apologized to me with his eyes. "Her grandmother's, that is of course to say, Pansy's grandmother's, family firm will be pleased to represent you."

"Thank you, but I prefer to put this behind me with all dispatch," Jean said quietly.

"It is of course your decision, but it would be best not to rush to judgment. I have found in my long experience of people that it is never wise to rush to judgment, especially when it comes to people. Good evening ladies, it has been my pleasure to be of some small service."

He bowed and got back into the car, which swept majestically away.

We used the private entrance, and I parked her on a sofa.

"Stay right here, promise?" She nodded. There was no shadow in her eyes now, they were just blank, and I was frightened. I hurried into my bath, which was bigger than hers and had a tub as well as a large shower. Usually I just used the taps, but I was in a rush so I used magic to fill it with hot water and soothing bath salts. I hurried back to her.

"Come on," I said, holding out my hand, and she took it and came with me wordlessly. She just stood staring at the tub, so I undressed her and helped her into it. She sat still while I tended to her cut lip. She was stiff, like a doll you could pose by bending its joints.

Her skin was as soft as I recalled, and I knelt by the tub and rubbed her back, hoping to get her to relax a little. Perhaps I should have given her privacy this time, but I was afraid to leave her alone. I turned on the jets and continued to rub her back, and after several long minutes I could feel her relaxing a little, and her eyes slowly came back into focus.

Here she was, the woman of my dreams, naked in my tub, and I was rubbing her back in the steaming air of the bath.

I had never been less aroused in my life.

Then the tears filled her eyes and spilled over, running down her face, and a furrow appeared on her forehead, and then her chin started quivering and she was weeping, and I pulled her head to my shoulder and held her while making stupid noises that were intended to be soothing.

She felt good in my arms; she felt like home, like she was mine, but I knew better, and I cried some too.

Finally the crying stopped, and she sniffed and scrubbed her arm across her nose like a little kid.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," I replied.

"May I rinse off in your shower?" she asked me.

"Of course."

"You can watch, if you like," she said, and there was the faintest ghost of a smile on her lips.

"Thanks, I'd love to." I tried a smile as well, and I doubt that it was any better than hers, but she was talking and moving and making jokes, so things were getting better, I hoped. I turned on the shower and gave her my arm to steady herself, but she had no trouble getting out, and she stood up straight in the shower and just let the hot water pour over her for a while.

I had a towel ready for her when she stepped out, and a nice thick robe for after that. She wrapped her hair in the towel and did the turban thing.

"I'll start supper while you shower, if you like," she offered.

I was still nervous about leaving her alone, but she was a grown woman and I felt fortunate that she had let me do as much for her as she had. Besides, I couldn't watch her forever.

Furthermore, I stunk. "The sweat of fear", is a very real thing.

"Thanks Jean, I'll just be a minute here." I started peeling off my clothes, and I was ashamed to realize that a part of me hoped that she would stay to watch me, that she would want to, but she just walked away without a backward glance.

I didn't linger, even though the shower felt really good, but I did take time to put on a pair of soft pants and a jumper. My hair dries pretty fast, so I had just toweled it off and let it hang.

Jean was busy in the kitchen when I got there, still in the robe.

"I can take over if you want to change," I offered, "what's next to be done?"

"I thought a lamb stew might be good, sort of comfort food, and these vegetables want cutting up. I'll be right back," she said. Again I felt the stab of fear, because for all I knew she had a little bottle of her own somewhere. But I just said "sure", and cut up the vegetables. When I was done I opened a really good Bordeaux so that it could breathe a bit.

"Thanks," she said when she returned, "I put your robe and towel in the chute."

I nodded, I had actually hoped that she wouldn't do that, because - nevermind.

She put the stew together and set it to cooking. I had wondered if she might use magic to speed it up, but she didn't. She just sat down at her usual place and sipped her wine for a few minutes.

"Obviously I can't keep carrying on as I have been," she said calmly. "If not for you I'd still be in that horrid jail. You're a very good friend, Pansy."

"So are you," I returned, and she snorted, but said nothing.

"Where is a time-turner when you need one?" she said wistfully after a while.

"We can't go back, Jean, only forward."

"So it would seem. Do you know where you're going?"

"Not clearly, no. I'm pants at most things, and thanks to my grandmother I can do pretty much what I want, but that gets old after a while." I shrugged.

"I think I know what I'd like to do, now that it's too late to do it," she said.

"What's that?"

"I'd like to be a dentist, like my parents."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Okay," I said, and she stared.

"Pansy, even if I would let you do it, no amount of money can change my education. A string of "O's" on my NEWT's is not going to get me into King's College, where my parents went. I'd have to start from scratch, and I'm afraid that I could not stand to live through another round of teenage hormones and angst with a bunch of kids. I've enough of both still, all on my own , as you well know, even though I'm no teenager." She took a slightly larger sip of wine.

"Do you think that you're the only witch or wizard who ever wanted to return to the Muggle world, Jean? It happens, especially with people of the so-called "upper" classes. My grandmother did it, she was a Muggleborn witch. 'Pure blood' is mostly a fiction."

"Your grandmother? You gave me hell for being a mudblood when your own grandmother was a Muggleborn?" she asked. I was glad to see her liven up a little, even if she was angry with me.

"I didn't know that when I started school, and then I tried not to believe it. I never said that I wasn't fucked up, Jean. I've got my full share of insecurities, fears, and problems, as _you_ well know. Everybody does, I've seen it in the way they act, the look in their eyes. The men and the women we fuck, they're not so different from us, really. I lucked into money, and you're the smartest witch in the world, and look at us," I shrugged.

"Point taken. What do I need to do?"

"I'll start things rolling tomorrow, tonight we need to eat that stew, drink some wine, and start to figure out where we're headed. I mean apart from you attending King's College," I said.

"I almost believe you."

We made that bottle last until the stew was ready, and it tasted good and settled warmly inside of us, and it did help the hollow feeling a bit. I caught her head when she slumped at the table and then levitated her to her bed and tucked her in.

I hesitated, but after the other things I'd done, this wasn't really so bad, and I really needed to do it, so I softly kissed her forehead and imagined that she smiled.

Granger wasn't the only one in this flat who knew how to slip someone a sleeping potion.

XXXXX

She had breakfast ready for me that next morning too, and it was all that I could do not to take her in my arms and hold her forever.

She had been through hell, and she still got up to fix my fucking breakfast. She also didn't mention the sleeping potion, if she even realized I had done that.

"I need copies of your OWL's and your NEWT's," I told her as we sat and sipped our tea. "I'm fairly sure you have those handy, right?" I tried a smile, and was pleased to see it faintly echoed on her face.

"I think I can find them, yes," she confirmed.

"As I said last night, it is not all that uncommon for a witch to cross over. Officials high up in the Muggle government are aware of our world, and so are many older families. Witches happen, right?" She smiled and nodded.

"So there is a procedure for issuing comparable academic credentials, up to University level. Beyond that you'll have to go the regular route, but you won't have wasted your time, so to speak. And there are certain to be gaps in your knowledge, things that you should know that you might not, and you'll have to work hard to fill those in."

I saw a gleam in her eyes, and my stupid heart started galloping again.

"That's more than I had dared to hope for," she said, and she actually smiled, a real smile that lit up her face.

"It's time for me to call Bertram," I said, and I picked up my phone.

"Should I leave? Do you want privacy?" she asked, making as if to stand.

"No. If you're going to do this you need to know something about how it works. Actually doing it will be easier for you than some, because you are already familiar with that world. But like it or not, politics are going to be involved to some degree. Bertram will handle all of that, but I thought that you should know. Is there anyone at the Ministry of Magic that you would use as a reference?"

"Certainly not the Minister... Harry, I suppose, and Arthur Weasley... no, better not list Arthur, not after Ron. Griselda Marchbanks, I think she's still there," she supplied.

"Harry will be enough, the people who will review this know him. We'll use McGonagall and Flitwick from Hogwarts, anyone else?" I asked her.

"Professor Vector and Madame Pince, and Madame Pomfrey."

"Great, I'll throw in Sprout, too, but I'll leave Trelawney and Dobbin out of it."

"That would be best, yes," she agreed, and the smile peeped through again. "Oh, I should contact them first, just in case. I let Harry know that I was all right a few days after I moved in, but I haven't communicated with him since. I asked him not to owl me."

"There will be time, you can start your messages now and we'll post them from Diagon Alley. Your transcripts will go by Muggle post, and it will take a few days for things to be processed. Have owl post sent to you care of me, I have arrangements for that. I'm sorry I didn't mention it sooner."

"I didn't need it before," she said with a shrug.

I dialed Bertram's firm.

"Pansy Parkinson for Bertram Winters, please," I told the person answering the phone. It did not take long.

_"Pansy, always a pleasure, how may we be of service? I do trust that things are well with your friend?"_

"Getting better, Bertram, and thank you again for your help."

_"It is my honor to serve, ma'am." _

"Could you handle a crossover for me?" I asked.

_"Certainly, ma'am, that's part of my job, to be sure. Dare I hope that..."_

"Dare to hope anything you like, but this one is for my friend Jean. Her scores are top-drawer, straight firsts on her NEWT's, and her references are impeccable," I promised him.

_"That's good to hear, makes my job easier. And the field of interest?"_

"Dentistry, King's College."

_"Very well, I shall set things in motion. I trust that you recall what I require in the way of documentation?"_

"I think so, since you send me a monthly letter reminding me, to say nothing of the odd missive from Uncle Winston."

_"We all do live in hope, Mistress Pansy,"_ he confessed.

"Well you can stop that for good and all, Bertram," I said emphatically.

_" I see... well I can't pretend that I am not disap-"_

"You'll get my documents too, Bertram, it's time for me to look into it," I interrupted. There was a thick moment of silence on the line, then -

_" Huzzah, Your Grace! Your Uncle shall be thrilled, as am I, of course,"_ he practically screamed.

"Hang on, Bertram, you know better than anyone that that's not yet proper address, and this is just between us for now. I have much to learn, and to consider, and much may happen. Let's not get Uncle Winston excited until I'm certain and we know I can be confirmed," I cautioned.

_"As you wish, ma'am, and please pardon my enthusiasm, but your grandmother had no doubts at all on the subject, nor do I. I eagerly await your post, and my very best regards to your lovely friend."_

I could hear him bellowing for his assistants before the phone hit the cradle.

"Is everything all right?" Jean asked. "I could hear him clear over here."

"Yes, he's just happy to help."

"Did I understand that you are crossing over as well? Do I have the term right?" she asked.

"Yes to both. My uncle has been sort of looking out for things since my grandmother died, but it is really time for me to take over some family obligations. I'll have a fair bit to learn, but as I have a feeling that this place is going to turn into a library pretty soon anyway, I might as well fit in."

"That's great! It will be such fun!" she exclaimed happily. That girl did love to learn.

XXXXX

We ordered lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, and Tom seemed pleased to see us.

"The food isn't as good as our pub back home," Jean said, sniffing at something on her fork.

"We'll go to Ananda's this evening. Leave it, Tom will serve it to someone else, and we'll be helping his profit margin. I'll leave him a good tip."

Jean assumed that I was kidding. I knew better, as did Tom, who whistled as he carried the plates back to the kitchen.

There were some surprised looks as we walked to the Owl Office, carefully avoiding Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, but no one spoke to us and we were back home well before dinner.

We spent the time before dinner on the terrace, just relaxing.

It was all I could do not to reach over and take her hand.

Dinner was excellent, and we were both wrung out by the time we got home. I watched her wash up and brush her teeth, and it might have been me she smiled at before she cut off her lights and crawled into bed.

It was her that I dreamed of though, and that was certain.


	12. Chapter 12

Author: Lash_Larue  
Title: "Eventual Envelopment" Chapter 12 of 21

Pairing: Jean/Pansy  
Rating: PG13

Warning * None in particular

Word Count:2500

Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling

A/N: Nothing drastic this time

"Eventual Envelopment"

Chapter Twelve

"Decompressing"

We spent the next few days just being. We walked around the neighborhood looking at it as place where people lived and worked and not as a market for sex or a place to hide from the world or whatever it was we had been doing.

Sure enough, there were people all over the place. Happy-looking people, depressed, drunk, occasionally pissed-off looking people, and there were people who seemed to be in love. Fools, in other words, like the song says.

From time to time Jean would start to reach for my hand as we walked, but she always pulled it back at the last minute. I guessed that she didn't want to give me the wrong idea, now that she knew about my obsession with her. I couldn't say anything about it, and I couldn't reach out and take hers like I sometimes had before she knew about me, knew what I did. I just had to be grateful that she was still with me, and that her heart was generous enough to share herself with me, if only in an enchanted mirror.

Of course, I wanted more, wanted to touch her, taste her skin, feel her soft warmth, and most of all I wanted her to want me. I marveled at my own greed.

We stumbled across a little bakery in our wanderings, one that I had never noticed before, and the good smells that flooded from the place pulled us unresisting through the door. A woman came out from the back carrying a tray of hot-cross buns, the icing still soft from the heat. She was short and had a smudge of flour on her nose. Of course it was Sarah, and it struck me like a blow that this woman we had both been so intimate with didn't know us at all, nor did we really know her.

It was strange to see her like this, busy, fully occupied with making a living and, from the smell of the place, damned good at what she did.

"Hi!" she greeted us. "Everything's fresh this morning except the things in the day-old bin over there. Let me know if I may assist you."

"We'll have two of those buns for a start," I told her.

"Are you taking them away or will you have them here? We've that small table if you'd like to sit, and there's tea if you like."

I glanced over at Jean and she smiled and nodded without my having to ask the question.

"Here would be lovely, the place smells so good," I told her.

"Have a seat then, and I'll fetch things for you."

We sat, and she brought us the warm buns on little paper plates.

"The tea will be just a moment," she promised, and then she bustled off.

"This is strange," Jean whispered, "it's like we don't even know her."

"We don't know her," I answered her, and that suddenly seemed kind of sad to me. From the look on Jean's face she was having similar thoughts.

The buns were perfect, just sweet enough, and tender, and...

"Here's your tea - oh! Would you care for another?" she asked. I was a little embarrassed to see that my bun was gone, but then so was Jean's.

"You put this table here for a reason, didn't you?" Jean asked her, and she grinned.

"Nothing like the smell of baking to sharpen the appetite. Room for another?"

"We'll just call this lunch," I said to Jean. "As we aren't going to find anything better, yes, we shall have another. They're marvelous, is this your shop?" I asked her, and she laughed.

"Oh, goodness no, I just do a bit of baking and watch the front. I'll fetch the buns, they're best while they're still warm from the oven," Sarah said, and she scampered off and was back in a trice.

We took our time with these, and bought some things to take home. Jean didn't bake much and this stuff was lots better than what we'd been getting from the market. I left her a decent tip and we said goodbye to her and left.

"She's really nice," Jean said after a while.

"Yes, she is," I agreed, and we said no more about it.

There was post from the solicitor's when we got home, a large, thick envelope, and I slit it open.

"Some of this is for you," I told Jean, putting it by her place at the table and taking my own seat.

"Oh, it's replies from Harry and the others," she said, and she hesitated, gnawing her lower lip like she did when she was nervous.

Every little detail. She would tuck her hair back behind her left ear next.

"I suppose I'd best open them, at least they don't seem to be howlers," she said in an attempt at humour as she tucked her hair back behind her left ear.

She opened the first one, and I kept an eye on her as I read my own mail. It wasn't long before I saw tears in her eyes, but she kept on going.

"They've all said that they would be proud to give me references," she said in a dazed voice. Even Arthur Weasley, Harry asked him, and Harry says that Kingsley Shacklebolt heard of it from Arthur and insisted on doing one as well."

"Professor McGonagall says that she's thrilled for me, and says that I should come to Hogwarts to visit whenever I like... oh, Pansy..." She sat staring at the letters from her friends and teachers while these huge tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Why are you surprised?" I asked her, fighting back my own tears that the sight of her happiness had started beating at the back of my eyes. "Get done with the crying in time to make yourself presentable, Bertram is taking us to dinner."

XXXXX

The dinner was superb, and Bertram was a gracious host. One of the things I liked about him was that I knew that I would not be billed for the meal or the things he told us during it. Don't get me wrong, he's very expensive, Jean would have fainted had she known what her little adventure cost. He is also very, very good at what he does, and when Bertram invites someone to dinner, he pays, and if you invite him he lets you pay. Bertram is the right kind of gentleman. Hell, he's the right kind of human being, and I began to think that I could do worse than to follow his example.

Jean, once she overcame her embarrassment over the circumstances of their initial meeting, warmed to him quickly. She recognized another first-class mind, and she appreciated the intelligence as much as, if not more than, the manners.

Bertram is a class act.

That made it a little easier for Jean to accept the fact that she had a choice of a degree pertinent to her desire to enter dental school from a number of very prestigious universities outside of the UK, _summa cum laude_. The reason for the foreign schools was to minimize the chances of running into someone she should have known.

"Perhaps you can assist Mistress Pansy in her further studies, Miss Granger, as it appears that she could use a bit of help."

I had only managed to get "cum laude". Bertram had class, but he wasn't above the odd jab now and again. I stopped short of telling him that I always come loud, because I knew he was proud of me.

But it took an effort.

He also asked us to be at home the following Monday at 10 AM to accept a delivery. During supper he managed to draw Jean out, and she told him about her parents, and how she was following in their footsteps, and she seemed to appreciate his approval.

Bertram's open admiration and assured manner went a long way towards getting her to accept that she really did have a future in this world.

We sat up late discussing schools, and finally decided that we had both graduated from the same place in the same year. It had the advantage of truth, and we could also support each other in the unlikely event that we ran into someone we should have shared a class with.

I actually refrained from activating my mirror when we said goodnight. I was tired, and the shampoo bottle had made no appearance. I was trying.

I did look in on her when I got up in the night, though. She was sleeping, and the faint light from the window just let me see her face. I stood there for a while.

XXXXX

The delivery arrived punctually, and the main elevator saw more use than it had in some time. The first thing up was a very large table. It was the table I had used to study on when I had visited my grandmother. She was very insistent that I study every day, and it is largely due to her that I had scraped the "cum laude" in spite of the lack of any real attention paid to lessons at Hogwarts.

The table is very old, and has been in the family for many generations. One day I would tell Jean the names of some of the people who had sat at this table with its softly gleaming lustre that was the result of countless hours of dedicated polishing by people who cared about such things even though it was their job. People who took pride in what they did, people whose example I was also going to try and follow now.

Great names had sat at this table, but they had not given it that deep, satiny glow that seemed to come from the heart of the wood.

I was pleased to see Jean touch it reverently, and I could tell from her face that she was wondering what stories this fine old table might have to tell, and it was in that precise moment that things shifted inside of me. It was physical, literal, I could actually _feel_ my insides rearranging.

It was in that moment that I realized that I was in love with her.

Not just desire, although my desire for her had also sharpened in that moment. I loved her.

I was surprised.

The arrival of the first load of cartons took her attention away from the table and while nothing would ever take my attention away from her, I did put the front part of my brain to work on what went where.

There were many cartons, and many wooden shelves, and the dining alcove to the side of the living area did indeed look like a library when they were done.

I had called for a delivery from the pub, and Jean and I ate lunch with the delivery men on the displaced dining table that was sitting awkwardly between the kitchen and the bar.

They took away that table and chairs when they left, and Jean went and studied the titles on the shelves.

"I've seen some of these in my parent's study," she told me.

"I expect so, those are the books you'll need to study for your UKCATs. You have a reservation to take the tests in six months. If you're not ready, we'll reschedule," I told her.

"This is a bit daunting," she admitted, thumbing through one of the thick volumes.

"For me as well, but my grandmother used to say that the things that are hardest to get are the things that mean the most."

"She sounds like a wise woman," Jean told me.

I took a look at the books that were there for me to use. There were not nearly so many of them, but some of them were really old, and I knew that once Jean had catalogued and rearranged her own books that she would be drawn to mine by their air of dusty age.

At some point I was going to have to come clean about my middle name. It was my grandmother's maiden name, her family name. iMy/i name, if I had the nerve to claim it. If I could prove to myself that I was worthy of it. If I decided that I was ready and able to shoulder real responsibilities.

That was a lot of pretty big "ifs". But I was resolved to try, for my grandmother, and for Jean, now, too. But mostly for myself, so that the person I saw in my mirror when I was not watching Jean would be someone I would want to know.

_Big_ if.

XXXXX

It reminded me of Hogwarts, watching her study, her eyes dark flames as she absorbed the knowledge from the books. Her fingers scanned lightly ahead of her eyes, flickering swiftly over the paper, getting a bit smudged from the ink in some of them.

It was strange to see the pencil, the pen, in place of the quill, but she still sometimes twirled her hair around her finger while she thought, and it felt good to see her like this. Her brows knit in concentration rather than anger, the sudden clearing when she had the thing firmly in mind, and the tiredness at the end of the day coming from concerted effort rather than disappointment and self-loathing.

I could happily watch her study forever.

But I had my stuff to do, and I tried hard to limit my Jean-gazing.

She still fixed my breakfast every morning.

I had extracted an agreement from her at the start that we would take regular breaks, and she stuck to it although her gaze would stray to the pile of books on the table while we were taking the air on the terrace.

I also had insisted on an hour each for lunch and dinner, minimum, and we usually went out. We could relax better away from the books and papers and this way we didn't have to spend part of the time fixing the meals.

We often went to the bakery, and by now Sarah brought the buns and tea as soon as she saw us. She always seemed happy that we were there, and if we were something less than friends we were easy in one another's company.

Sometimes I forgot to feel guilty about the way I had treated her, and sometimes I thought that if it weren't for Jean that maybe Sarah and I...

But there _was_ Jean, and I was daily thankful for that.

And sometimes the shampoo bottle was on the table, and she would give of herself to me that which she could give, and while I never failed to want more the desperate pain of not having it faded a bit. Or perhaps I just got used to it. But my heart never failed to slam against my ribs, and my hands always shook, and it always was for me a fresh miracle, every single time.


	13. Chapter 13

Author: Lash_Larue  
Title: "Eventual Envelopment" Chapter 13 of 21

Pairing: Jean/Pansy  
Rating: R

Warning * Girlsex, Suicidal thoughts and intentions, Self-Destructive behavior

Word Count:1460

Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling

A/N: Possible triggers, see warnings

"Eventual Envelopment"

Chapter 13

"Pifall"

"My head is going to explode," Jean declared, shutting the large book with an air of finality.

"Full?" I asked.

"I'm surprised that you can't see stuff running out of my ears. I didn't work this hard on my NEWTs. Let's go out for supper and make a night of it, what do you say?"

"Fine by me, Ananda's?" I asked.

"Not tonight. Tonight I want to go to a club, it's been a while," she told me.

A few hours later I was standing in my bathroom watching her kiss every inch of a brunette about my size. I could hear the woman's breath catch when Jean's lips closed over a nipple, hear the wet sound that Jean's fingers made as she thrust into her, see her mouth open in a strangled scream when Jean sucked on her clit.

I could feel it. My nipples tingled and my clit throbbed, and stuff was dripping from me, and I fucked myself while I stared, and I came when Jean looked right into my eyes with her face shining with the wet from inside the brunette whose name I didn't know, but who nonetheless was right where I wanted to be more than anyplace in the world.

I stood trembling while Jean held her, while the woman licked herself from Jean's face, while their tongues and lips explored each other. My hands clenched into fists when her tongue circled Jean's nipples, and my eyes stung when her mouth closed over one and Jean arched her back and moaned. My bones rattled.

I couldn't move while her mouth trailed lower and lower as Jean writhed beneath her, and I felt something tear inside me when she sucked Jean's labia into her mouth and then licked and sucked greedily at her pussy.

And when Jean grabbed handfuls of the dark hair and sat halfway up, shaking and coming so hard that she was crying, my insides shriveled and dried up like an old piece of jerky.

She looked like me, she was giving and receiving what I wanted more than anything, and she looked like me.

But I was alone in my bathroom, and it was her mouth on Jean, her fingers inside Jean, not mine. Jean fell back on the bed, gasping and sobbing, and I cleared the mirror and went and sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the little bottle in my hand.

I was still staring at it when I heard the chime of the elevator. I had no idea how long I had been sitting there, but I knew I didn't want to know. I crawled under the covers and hoped that I wouldn't dream.

XXXXX

I woke to the smell of breakfast cooking, but I wasn't hungry.

I looked wistfully at the little bottle before I put it away. I would have to hang on at least until Jean got into King's College. At least until then, I couldn't take the chance of ruining things for her, not when she seemed to be coming back to life.

Maybe last night didn't mean she was going to get out of control again, maybe it just meant that she wanted someone's touch.

Or maybe it meant that she had found something real, because I had never seen her face like that before when she came.

I wasn't hungry, but I was plenty empty-feeling.

I washed up and threw on some sweats and went to greet the day.

Jean looked like she hadn't slept much, and I guess I did too. At least she had a good reason.

"Good morning," she greeted me, and she yawned. "Excuse me, french toast and sausages this morning, Sarah's bread is perfect for this. Your tea is ready."

"Thanks," I sat down and sipped my tea.

"Here you are," she said, setting a loaded plate in front of me before she sat down to her own breakfast.

I wanted to ask her how she'd slept, I wanted to ask her if she'd had fun with the girl last night, but I was afraid that she would tell me, so I didn't.

I thought about finding her, the girl who looked like me, but it wasn't her fault, what had happened. It wasn't her fault that she'd had what I wanted. Hell, she wouldn't even remember it.

I would though. I'd remember seeing that hair so much like mine spread over Jean's thighs and trailing across her breasts. I'd remember those legs that looked like mine opening for Jean.

I'd remember.

I pretended to be studying my shit until lunchtime, when we changed into something presentable and went to Sarah's bakery. We always got there around the same time, and Sarah usually managed to have something fresh from the oven for us.

Being around her cheered me up, she was so open and friendly that it just kind of rubbed off on you.

"Jean made french toast with your bread this morning," I told her, "best stuff ever."

"Thanks, I'm happy that you like it. It's denser than the market bread, and of course it's fresher. Say, I'll give you a few of the eggs we use for next time you make it. We get them from a real farm, not an egg factory. They're great!"

She hurried off to the back to get the eggs.

"That's nice of her," I said.

"It surely is," Jean agreed, and then Sarah was back.

"Here's a half-dozen, if you like them here's the card for the farm. You can just add some on to our deliveries if you decide you want some. We get them every morning."

"Thank you, that's very kind of you. I'm sure we'll love them," Jean told her.

"Jean does most of the cooking," I explained.

"I see," Sarah said, and she hesitated a moment. "I hope I'm not out of line here, but I've kind of been wondering, I mean, you're always together and, well... are you guys a couple? I know it's none of my business, but you seem so great together, and..." she trailed off, flushing pink.

"Oh, it's fine to ask, Sarah," Jean said quickly, "but no, we aren't a couple. We went to school together and Pansy has been nice enough to rent me a room in her flat. I- I kind of had to make a big change in my life, and Pansy has been there for me. She is my best friend, though."

"Yeah, we're old friends, that's all," I managed to get out while I was falling into a bottomless pit. That was how I had figured that she felt about me, but it was hard to hear it confirmed.

"Oh, well friends are great. Say, I hope you aren't offended by me thinking you might, you know, like girls that way. Some people are," she asked anxiously.

"That's not a problem that we have," I assured her, "Jean and I are both kind of flexible in that regard, but we do sort of lean towards the ladies."

"Me too," Sarah said, looking at me. Jean coughed.

"Well, thanks for the eggs, what do we owe you?" I asked.

"The eggs are a gift; you two are our best customers, really. We can't seem to break into the restaurant trade, we just can't match the prices of the big bakeries, and the really fine restaurants do their own baking."

"Their loss, yours are the best baked goods I've ever had," Jean told her, and that earned her a big smile.

"Thanks, I appreciate that. Baking is what I do best, I guess."

Not quite. But she surely is a damn fine baker.

A few minutes later we were walking home.

"I think she likes you," Jean said.

"She's a friendly person, yes," I replied.

"No, I mean she _likes_ you. Why don't you bring her home again?"

"Why don't you? You know I watched you with her, and you sure seemed to like it," I countered.

"I couldn't, not since we've gotten to know her. Sex was very good with her, but she's not for me, not really. And now she's a friend, and I can't treat her like the others any more. She's too real," Jean explained.

"That's how I feel too," I told her. I didn't tell her that if it weren't for her, that things might be different between Sarah and I. I didn't tell her that, but I suspected that it was true. And it didn't matter, either. She just wasn't Jean.

But I had the showers, and in time I'd have my little bottle.

At the moment I had to get things settled for Jean, get her firmly on the path to her future.

The future that wouldn't have me in it.

Note:If this account gets purged, this story is available on my L J page. Lash_larue.


	14. Chapter 14

Author: Lash_Larue  
Title: "Eventual Envelopment" Chapter 14 of 21

Pairing: Jean/Pansy Hermione/Pansy  
Rating: R

Highlight for warning * Suicidal thoughts and intentions, reference to Self-Destructive behavior, Masturbation, Voyeurism? *

Word Count: 2092

Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling

A/N: Possible triggers, see warnings. For Amaranta316, just a tiny bit of peace of mind. Repeat, tiny bit.

"Eventual Envelopment"

Chapter 14

"Oh."

We went back to studying. Well, Jean did, I was kind of having trouble getting motivated to learn how to be something I really didn't expect to be alive to be. But I pretended to be studying the books while I studied her. I wanted to burn her even more deeply into my mind, my heart, just in case those images and feelings would travel with me when I left.

So I noticed when the tear ran down her cheek, but I didn't say anything about it. Then there was another, and yet another, and soon there was a steady stream of them dropping onto the book she was staring at blankly.

"Jean?" I questioned gently.

"I hate myself, I'm pathetic," she said in a shaking voice.

"I don't understand. You are the least pathetic person I know," I responded.

"Oh, really? Does it get much more pathetic than having sex with strangers trying to make up for something you lost without ever having it? And the sex isn't even good."

That set me back on my heels, and it also made me a little bit angry. Not good? What in the world did she expect from sex?

"It looked pretty good to me last night. You came so hard you were crying," I said baldly. I'd cried plenty last night too, but I wasn't going to tell her that. Not yet, anyway.

"Oh, I came all right, and I scared the hell out of whoever she was right after. I had to stun her to give myself time to calm down enough to modify her memory without damaging her mind. She couldn't figure out why I was crying," Jean told me as she stared down at her book.

"Why were you crying, then? Do you know?'

"Oh, I know, I surely know. I didn't even have in mind picking someone up last night. I just thought it would be nice to get out and hear some music, and maybe dance a little. To unwind a bit, you know?" I nodded. "And it was fun, and I was relaxing, and you seemed to be having fun too, and then- then I saw her, and the next thing I knew I was asking her to come home with me."

"So you were attracted to her, what's wrong with that?" I asked.

"Everything. You watched us, right? You paid attention?"

"Yes."

"Tell me, did she remind you of anyone? Anyone at all?"

I felt really funny, like the floor had turned to rubber or something.

"I still don't understand," I said hoarsely.

"You! She looked like you, okay? I know I can never have you, and then I saw her and I couldn't help it! I'm so pathetic that I picked up a woman who looks like you and took her home and had sex with her pretending that she was you! And _yes_ I had an orgasm, and I had my hands in her hair pretending it was you doing that to me, but it wasn't, it won't be, it can't be, and I know it! I'm in love with you, and I want you, and I'm not fit to touch you! That's why I was crying, and _that's_ why I'm pathetic!"

"Huh?" There it was again, the girl makes me stupid.

"I can't make it any plainer, Pansy," she said tiredly.

"You love me, you want me?"

"Yes."

I knew better than to ask why, there's never really a why for that, but...

"What on earth makes you think you aren't fit to touch me?" I asked her, trying desperately to regain my balance.

"You've seen the things I've done, Pansy, the way I've treated people. Using them and discarding them, taking out my anger and frustrations on them, trying to fuck or fight some meaning into my life. I can't think why you even tolerate me in your home."

"You haven't done anything different from what I've done," I protested.

"Please. Since I've been here you have been with one person. One, Pansy."

"That's only because I'd rather watch you, and that's not exactly upright behaviour." She shrugged.

"I don't mind that. I was surprised, and then impressed by the magic involved, and then - then I got excited at the thought that you would go to so much trouble to watch me. I mean, I know that voyeurism is a type of addiction, and that it really doesn't have that much to do with me, but it still excited me, that you watched me, that you wanted to. Frankly, wanking in the shower knowing that you are watching me and doing the same thing is better than having sex with someone." I swallowed, and then she raised her eyes to mine and said-

"And it's not like I never watched you. I hid in your closet. I was there, watching you with Sarah. It was - you were - the most beautiful, the most arousing thing I have ever seen, the way you yielded to her, the way you made her body sing, they way you held each other..." She paused and shook her head.

"And ever since then I've been looking for that. At first I thought it was because Sarah is a woman, that that would make the difference, and it did, at least at first. Sex was better with her than anyone I've ever been with, but it wasn't quite what I wanted, so I kept looking for it. I kept looking, and I got angry when I couldn't find it. I hated them for failing me, and I hated myself for being weak, and for how I treated them."

"By the time I figured things out I knew it was too late. It wasn't women that I wanted, that I needed, it was you. And it's too late, you can't want me, I'm disgusting. And through all of that shit you stood by me. You healed my wounds and got me out of jail, and you even arranged things so that I could maybe do something real with my life. But it's too late, and if I ever had a chance with you it's gone. That's why I was crying last night."

I just stared.

"I'll leave," Jean whispered.

"Jean..."

"I'm sorry, I've taken advantage of you for too long, I'll-"

"Jean..."

"Please, you don't have to say anything. I'll pay for the books, and-"

"Hermione!" That did it; she stopped babbling and looked at me.

"I want you too."

"Oh."

We sat in silence for a while, and then she started to slowly shake her head like she was denying something.

"Okay, I can't see why you would, but if you want me, I owe you that much. If you want to fuck me it's certainly more than I deserve."

"I don't want to fuck you," I told her.

"Oh, well of course you don't, I mean, why-"

"Hermione, just shut up, stop thinking, and _listen_ to me, please!" I begged her. She fell silent and waited, staring at her book again.

"Look at me," I said, and she raised her eyes to mine.

"I do not want to fuck you, not yet. I want to make love with you because I am in love with you, and until you can believe that I am not going to have sex with you. I want to hold you in my arms and kiss you more than I have ever wanted anything in my life, to taste your skin, to feel your warmth. But even if you're willing I'm not going to do it now. I'm not going to mess this up like I've messed up most things. Once you believe in my love for you, once you can trust in it, then we can make love. And when you _know_ how much I love you, I'll fuck you on that little table at Sarah's bakery if you want me to. Do you understand me? Do you hear me saying that I'm in love with you?"

"Yes, but -"

"No. No 'but', _never_, 'but'. Not for this. This is important, and I only have one question to ask you."

"What is it?" she asked.

"Do you really think you can love me?"

"I already do."

"Well I have a little trouble believing that too. But it will be easier for me to believe than it will for you since I am a Slytherin Princess and you're a hard-headed Gryffindor. So let's do this. First, let's apply ourselves to what we've set out to do here, and maybe that will help us get back some self-respect, make sense?" She nodded.

"Next, whether we really believe it in our hearts right now or not, we accept that we love each other, because we have to believe each other or nothing matters, right?"

"Right," she agreed, and there was a little bit of life in her eyes.

"We give ourselves as much time as we need, as much time as it takes for what we feel for each other to grow, to get strong enough that we can believe in it, see it, feel it envelop us and hold us close."

"Okay."

"And we talk to each other, and we listen, we ask questions, and if for some reason we don't want to answer a particular question we just say so, but we don't lie to each other or ourselves, not about us."

"Especially that, I think," she emphasized. "Oh, even about your cooking?"

"You can lie about my cooking a little," I allowed.

"I can't study today. There is too much else in my mind," she told me.

"Me too, it's not every day that you get handed everything you want in life and then have to wait for it."

"It will be worth it, I think."

"I think so as well, but right now there is something I want to do."

"What's that?"

"I want to take a shower." I tossed my wand onto the table and walked into her room, shutting the door behind me.

I couldn't touch her, and I couldn't let her touch me, not sexually. What we had together, or what we hoped to have, was too new, too fragile, and we both had too many memories of sex being something other than an expression of love to chance that.

But I wanted to give her something, something of me, and I had to hope that she would see and understand what I was telling her.

I stood beneath the falling water with my face turned up into it while my hair grew wet and heavy and stuck to my face, my neck, and my shoulders.

I filled my hands with the shampoo and covered myself with the ice-blue lather, breathing deeply of the scent of my deepest desires.

I touched the foam with my tongue, and the taste flooded through me and set my nerves to singing.

I explored every bit of me, I showed her all of me, I opened myself fully to her and hoped that she was watching. I hoped that she was watching, and believing that I was so passionate, so wanton, so open, open, _open_ - just for her.

When my eyes opened I was on the floor of her shower, and the water was swirling the foam down the drain, there was a puddle of thinned-out lather in my navel and my hair was still covered with ice-blue foam.

I got to my feet and stood beneath the falling water with my face turned up into it and rinsed away the lather while my hair grew wet and heavy and stuck to my face, my neck, and my shoulders.

All of me, every little detail, for her.

XXXXX

I left her room holding my clothes wadded up in front of me, my hair was still dripping. I heard noises from the kitchen, and I looked over that way and saw Jean setting out pans.

Our eyes met, and I could see that she been crying again, but there was a beautiful, trembling, fragile, smile on her face.

"I thought I'd make Beef Wellington," she told me.

"That's my favorite," I told her.

"I know."

I went to my bath and saw my wand lying beside the sink and a pair of knickers on the floor. The knickers were torn, and messy, and there was lipstick smeared on the mirror.

That could happen until you got used to the mirror.

I smiled while I dried my hair.


	15. Chapter 15

Author: Lash_Larue  
Title: "Eventual Envelopment" Chapter 15 of 21

Pairing: Jean/Pansy  
Rating: PG

Warning * None *

Word Count: 2125

Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling

Notes following text

"Eventual Envelopment"

Chapter Fifteen

"Shoes and the Dropping Thereof"

The Savoy never served a Wellington to match that one, not the least because Jean served it wearing my Slytherin uniform that was really too tight for her. Poor girl couldn't even button up the blouse all the way, but that green and silver tie looked right at home in her cleavage.

I didn't look nearly as good in her Gryffinpuke outfit, but I rolled the skirt up so that the knickers I had spelled to red and gold with a lion on the front kind of peeked out now and then, sort of by accident.

So there was goodness wrapped up in more than pastry dough that evening, and it was fun.

After the dishes we sat out on the terrace as the sun went down, and I didn't even jump when she shyly took my hand.

Now we knew. It had been hard on both of us to realize it, and tough to get it out, but now we knew. Every little detail, just for us, and right then, sitting outside as the air cooled and the light faded, it was more than wonderful. Right then, it was enough.

I dreamed of her.

XXXXX

I wasn't surprised to smell breakfast cooking when I woke up, but it still felt nice, and even the tiny furrow on her brow that meant she was thinking hard about something didn't worry me too much.

"Good morning," I greeted her, and then it got a little awkward. Kissing might be too much, and shaking hands would have been dumb, so we just kind of shifted from foot to foot for a minute.

"The tea is ready to come out of the water now," she said, and that gave us the way to end that odd sort of dance. Apparently we still had things to work on.

"Sarah was right, these eggs are much better than the market ones," I commented after my first bite of French toast.

"They certainly are, the yolks are such a deep yellow, almost orange," Jean agreed. "Would you like some more? It will only take a couple of minutes."

"No thanks. This was just right. I should be paying you for this, it's worth a lot more than the rent, and last night's dinner was amazing."

"I'm afraid that I might have stretched your blouse a bit…" she said, blushing a little.

"Trust me, I do not mind in the least," I promised her.

"You're beautiful," she whispered, and I reached across the table and squeezed her hand. She chewed on her lip a little, and I knew something was coming.

"Pansy, did you mean it? Really mean it? Because if you didn't I –" she trailed off into silence and I didn't have to ask what she was asking about.

"I did and I do, and it's okay to ask, remember? We can ask things. That's a rule."

"But we don't have to answer, correct?"

"Correct, and I don't need tea leaves to tell that you have something else on your mind, so ask me." She drew a deep breath and then caught my eyes with her own.

"I can see that this crossing over has happened before, I doubt that even Bertram could have accomplished so much in such a short time if there were not established procedures to follow."

_"Uh-oh,"_ I thought.

"But really, I just cannot see how, even though my grades and recommendations were very good, that I could have carte blanche on a degree from some of the finest institutions in the world. To say nothing of being allowed to sit the UKCAT's without even an interview."

"That's not really a question," I pointed out, hoping to stall her.

"You're right, it's not, but this is. How did you manage this, Pansy, and how much did it cost?"

Well, I had told her to ask. I really didn't want to get into that, not yet, but it was come clean or refuse to answer, and if we were going to be together then she needed to know.

"Accio purse," I said, and my evening bag plopped onto the table beside my plate. I fished out the card that I had shown the guy at the Savoy and handed it to her.

"Oh," she said.

Jean could get more mileage out of that little word than anyone I had ever known.

"Yeah," I replied in kind.

"So you are…"

" 'To the manor born', as the saying is, yes. Through my grandmother," I explained.

"Why would you keep this a secret?"

"That name means nothing in the wizarding world, and maybe too much in this one. Besides, it's a kind of awkward middle name for a girl, I think. My parents gave me that name hoping to suck up to grandmother, but she was wise to them," I told her. She worked on her lip some more.

"I thought this title had been merged in crown, my mum keeps Burke's Peerage on the sitting room table," she said after a bit, "and I didn't know that it could be passed down through a female line."

"Technically it's a life peerage, but we have a treaty with the crown that dates back to even before the current monarchy. The arrangement is a little complicated, but it works out."

"So if the title passes down, why didn't your mother -"

"Grandmother wouldn't let her," I interrupted, "she didn't think my mother was suited for it. This title is real, it's not about riding in parades waving funny. There are real people, real farms and other businesses involved. If I accept this I will have to make real decisions that will affect real people, people from families that have been bound with mine for centuries. If the whole system of "Nobility" is discarded, and I might come down in favor of that one day, then I'll have to make sure that everyone is treated fairly."

I sipped some tea while I tried to organize my thoughts.

"The title is not me. It's all of those people and all of their histories, and many of them are fully in support of the monarchy and its offshoots. It's their home, it gives them a sense of place to be part of a long tradition."

She was nodding slowly.

"Take our study table for example. It's mine, it was my grandmother's and her grandmother's and so on for many centuries. But I don't own it, I can't own it, not really. That table and much more have been cared for proudly by the members of only two families since the day it was made, and I asked the current generation if they would mind if I brought it here."

More tea.

"So that's why I kept quiet about it, it meant a lot to my grandmother and it still means a lot to a whole bunch of other people, and if I'm going to do this I have to do it right. And to finally answer your question, yes, I pulled some strings. But you still have to take the test and do well on it, and you still have to qualify for your FDSRCS just like anybody else."

"All right then. Tell me, are you doing this for your grandmother?" she asked.

"Only in part. She was very clear that she did not want me to feel obligated to do this, and she didn't want me to ever do it for financial reasons, which is why she settled so much money on me. Mostly I want to do something real, like you said. I want to feel like a part of something beyond a house at Hogwarts."

"You're a Countess."

"Well, yeah. Do you mind?" I was really afraid that this would get her back to thinking she wasn't good enough for me. She had enough to get past with that as it was.

"Not so long as you do the thing properly. Inherited titles don't impress me, it's not like you have to do anything at all to get them, but sometimes the holders of them are able to. I'm not going to call you "Your Grace" though."

One less thing to worry about.

XXXXX

The old gleam was back in her eye while she studied, and I was able to relax enough to make some progress of my own. I'm sure that my old buddies on the Inquisitorial Squad would have gotten a big kick out of watching me study sheep husbandry and wool marketing.

We skipped our morning break because breakfast had run kind of late and somebody's stomach rumbled a little to remind us that it was lunchtime. Funny how hungry exercising your brain can make you.

"How many eggs should we order?" Jean asked me while we walked to the bakery.

"Sarah says they get them every day, so no need to get more than a dozen at the time unless there is a specific need. We'll talk with her about it."

Sarah smiled at us when we walked in, and went to get the tea. She brought us the pot and some scones fresh from the oven.

"Gosh, these look great," I told her, "and you were right about the eggs. Do I pay you or the farm for them?"

"You can just pay us, that will be simpler. How many do you want?"

"We think a dozen at the time will work for us, right, Pansy?" Jean asked me, and a funny look came over Sarah's face, followed by a wide grin.

"What?" I asked, suddenly a little uncomfortable.

"Something has changed here," she said slowly, looking closely at us. Jean flushed a little; I didn't, though; there was just a warm breeze from the kitchen right then. The grin got wider. "Looks like I waited too long," she said, non-specifically. "But I did see it coming, congratulations, you two!"

"Thank you," Jean replied. I might have blushed then, just a tiny bit.

Nah. No way I blushed.

Sarah went into the back and Jean and I sat and enjoyed our tea and scones.

"I liked that," Jean said after a few minutes.

"What?"

"Her congratulating us, she really looked happy for us, and it feels good to be linked with you like that," she explained.

"I like it too, it's funny to have someone know something intimate about me, other than you, I mean. But it does feel good."

"As Luna Lovegood would say, 'it's almost like having friends," Jean supplied.

"Maybe we should try that too, having friends, I mean," I suggested, and Jean looked interested.

"We could invite her to supper," she said.

"Good idea, when?"

"We'll ask her, one day is much the same to us at this point, Sarah has this job and who knows what else."

"Right, here she comes."

"Anything else for you ladies?" she asked.

"We'll pick out some things at the counter to take home, and the eggs for tomorrow, of course. Say, Jean and I were wondering..." I was suddenly more nervous at the thought of inviting her to our place for supper than I ever had been when asking her to have sex. Clearly Jean wasn't the only one with some things to work through. "We'd like to have you over to our place for supper some evening. Jean's a great cook."

She smiled.

"That's so sweet of you, I'd love too! When?"

"We thought you should pick, since right now our schedules are pretty open," Jean answered her.

"Okay, how about Saturday? I'm off on Sundays so I won't have to go to bed early," Sarah explained.

"Saturday is great, is there anything you really don't like, food wise?"

"Not so far, although I really don't like fish or fowl with the heads still on."

"I'm right with you there," Jean told her, and I wrote the address down on a piece of paper.

"Come over any time, we usually eat around eight, if that's okay with you," I said, handing her the paper.

"Okay, oh! I know this building; it's near a club I go to sometimes. Can I bring anything? Bread, maybe?" she smiled again, and the warmth, the simple good feelings that this exchange with her had brought out in me were amazing.

"That would be lovely, we'll let you know the menu before Saturday."

"Okay, I'll see you then!"

We paid her and left the shop, and she waved to us through the window.

"That felt good," Jean said.

She took my hand in hers and we walked home together, and the place really did feel like a home, and that was a different feeling for me, so I kind of held on to it for a while.

A/N: The whole thing with Pansy was just to add another layer to her character and give her something to take seriously. I did a fair bit of research into the whole thing, and a peerage inherited through females kind of doesn't exist from what I found. I figured what the heck and came up with this. There may be further references to Pansy's history down the line.


	16. Chapter 16

Author: Lash_Larue  
Title: "Eventual Envelopment" Chapter 16 of 21

Pairing: Jean/Pansy  
Rating: R

Warning * Suicidal thoughts, Masturbation, Voyeurism? *

Word Count: 1776

Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling

A/N: Possible triggers, see warnings

"Eventual Envelopment"

Chapter Sixteen

"Hemlock and Heaven"

The good feelings from lunch stayed with me while we worked through the afternoon and into the evening. Jean worked with her usual fierce concentration, and I worked around my concentrating on her, but I wanted to do the thing properly. Not just for her, but largely for her. Studying had never been my strong suit, and I thought that maybe after supper I'd ask her for some pointers on the subject.

I fixed supper for us, just a salad and some grilled chicken with some of Sarah's bread, but it was pretty and it tasted good enough that Jean didn't have to lie when she told me it was good.

Little things.

Little things have a way of threading themselves all through you. Warm wishes from a friend, appreciation from a loved one for a simple meal. Sitting in companionable silence, close enough to feel each other's warmth but not touching, not crowding or demanding.

Just letting the good feelings take root and grow until they surround you, and little things; little things become the biggest thing.

Until, that is, Jean runs her fingers through her soft and gleaming hair, makes a face, and says -

"My hair is filthy. I'd best wash it so it can dry before bedtime."

Then I watch her go into her room, and then I'm standing in front of my mirror and Jean is _right there_ looking into my eyes as she takes off her clothes and stands naked, brushing her hair, and I realize she's not going to wash it after all.

She goes to her dresser and I think at first that she's getting her pajamas but she pulls out a pair of knickers instead and turns her back to the mirror. I could change my point of view of course, but I don't because she clearly has something in mind. I see her wand move, and hear her voice muttering a charm and then she's walking back to the mirror.

I let her control what I see. She knows how the mirror works, and she's treating it like a window, so I do that too. She grins at me, actually grins, she knows I'm there and she's playing with me.

I love it.

I love it that she feels desirable, I can see it in her face, and in the way she moves. Here in the mirror she can share herself with me without fear or embarrassment, and she can tease me so that both of us enjoy it. She turns away from me and steps into the knickers, and there isn't much knicker to see from behind, just a silver band around her waist and a bit of green cloth that nearly disappears between her cheeks. The knickers might not be too comfortable but they look really good from this angle.

Then she turns around, and she grins again.

There's a green triangle of cloth covering her sex, and on it is a silver snake whose tail trails off and disappears between her thighs, between the gently swelling softness that covers those powerful muscles, and I feel myself melting, growing heavy and liquid inside. She softly rubs her hand over the snake, and it hisses, or she does, or I do. Maybe all of us hiss, I can't tell for sure, but I'm sure that it's my knickers that give way with a soft pop because I just can't be arsed to pull them down and kick them off.

Then she does something that makes me wish I'd been a little slower to do that.

She slowly runs a finger down the length of the snake and wedges it in between her lips. I can see the soft skin flushing, the dark hair curling around the silver and green, hiding the fabric, and there is a wet gleam that is slowly edging into sight.

She grabs the waistband and pulls it upward, and this time I'm sure that it's her that I hear when she drags the fabric back and forth over her clit.

It doesn't take long, for either of us, and I'm pretty sure she can hear me come right through the wall. Both of us are breathing really hard then, because apparently we've forgotten to do that for a while, and then she peels off the knickers and presses them against the mirror and the silver snake shines against the sodden green cloth.

"I love you," she tells me.

The little things become the biggest things, but sometimes - sometimes she is the _only_ thing.

XXXXX

I got up twice in the night and looked in on her. One time she was sleeping and I watched the rise and fall of her chest for a short while and then went back to bed. The next time I went in to pee, and I looked in on her again in the very early morning.

She was muttering in her sleep, and in the faint light from the window I could see the tracks of tears on her cheek.

I went back to bed and wondered why she was crying.

I thought about losing her.

I thought about the little bottle.

XXXXX

The days went by quickly, on Wednesday I had a long meeting with Bertram, and Jean went to the bakery to pick up the eggs and have lunch and talk with Sarah about Saturday.

In the back of my mind I wondered for a while if Jean and Sarah might hook up while I was gone. I looked at it from several angles, like I was looking at it in the mirror.

It felt good when I realized that it wasn't going to happen, both because I trusted Jean and knew that she loved me, knew that the gentle progress of our relationship (Gentle apart from the mirror, I mean. We were not timid virgins, but passionate women who wanted each other. But we were new to real love.) was right for us, and because Sarah was my friend.

I found that idea so fascinating that Bertram had to touch my hand to get my attention, and the soft look on his face told me that he knew something of where my mind was just then.

I may have mentioned how much I like Bertram, but it bears repeating. Grandmother trusted him, and I trust him, and he has always had our best interests at heart and never tried to sugar coat anything for either of us.

He has three daughters, and they are fortunate in their father.

Nonetheless, I was glad to get home.

"How was your day?" Jean greeted me, and I knew that she was really interested.

"Good. Bertram and I worked on some things for the estate, and he assures me that the Lord Chancellor has already decided to recommend the discretion of the crown for me. That's the way it's supposed to work by the treaty, but it was good to hear."

"Well of course the Lord Chancellor will do that, your nobility simply shines from you, you Slytherin Princess, you," she said with laughter in her voice.

There went my stupid heart again, she felt comfortable enough with me to take the mickey on something like this. I was starting to really believe in us, and that was both wonderful and terrifying.

As soon as I believed, really believed, I would be hers body and soul, and while I wanted that, it was frightening in its intensity.

"What about you? Did you have fun at the bakery?"

"It was lovely as always, puff pastry today, I brought you some. We settled on lasagna for Saturday, and Sarah is bringing garlic bread. I told her that you would handle the salad and the wine," she answered.

"That I can handle. Dessert?"

"Zabaglione, these eggs will be wonderful for that. Oh, do you have Marsala?"

"We have everything," I promised her.

XXXXX

We worked so hard Thursday and Friday that we sort of snoozed though supper and then just sat out on the terrace until we couldn't stay awake any longer.

It was Friday night in the kitchen, and we were just about to go to our separate rooms when it happened.

We turned to each other to say goodnight, and then we were in each other's arms, and she felt so _good_ in my arms; she felt like home, like she was mine.

It was the only time I had really held her other than that terrifying night in the tub, but this time, this time she really was mine, and like holding hands on the terrace that evening, this was enough.

That night I didn't dream. I didn't need to, I just fell asleep remembering the feel of her in my arms.

XXXXX

By prior agreement, we ate breakfast at the place across the street, and Jean seemed pleased when I muttered something ungracious about the stuff tasting like thestral fodder next to her breakfasts.

I wasn't pleased at all; the stuff was crap, relatively speaking.

After breakfast we went food shopping, and we wound up taking a cab to a place that had really good Italian sausage and cheese. I found myself looking forward to supper for more than the company. We already had a really good chianti for the meal and a moscato for dessert, as well as some old brandy if anyone wanted it, so we just rounded off the trip by picking up some fresh things for the salad and then went home.

I guess we might have looked silly, but we had fun tidying up and worrying about how our friend would like our home. Thinking "our home" still felt like we were tempting fate to me, but I couldn't help it.

If a want is strong enough, it's the same thing as a need, at least to me.

I helped make the noodles, and I made the salad, and then Jean had the lasagna ready for the oven and there were still a couple hours before we thought that Sarah would arrive. We cleaned up the kitchen, and polished the glasses, and then we looked at each other and she pressed my cheeks between her palms and kissed me.

It was a short, soft, kiss, more of a wish than a promise, but my knees nearly buckled and one of us whimpered a little.

You only get one real first kiss, and that was ours, and I'll put it up against yours or anyone else's, any time.

To that point it was the single perfect moment of my life.


	17. Chapter 17

Author: Lash_Larue  
Title: "Eventual Envelopment" Chapter 17 of 21

Pairing: Jean/Pansy Hermione/Pansy  
Rating: NC17

Warning * Masturbation, Voyeurism?, Dream Sex - fairly organic and explicit dream sex. No het, though.

Word Count: 5600

Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling

A/N: This chapter is smutty and fluffy. Smuffy? Flutty? In any case, there's rather a lot of sex, so read the warnings and err on the side of caution.

"Eventual Envelopment"

Chapter Seventeen

"Wet Dreams"

Sarah showed up at 6:30, and since she had called to let us know she was on her way I met her at the street entrance.

"Hi!" she said brightly, and she shifted the bag she was carrying to one arm so that she could give me a little hug and a kiss on the cheek.

I remembered her lips.

She has a small mouth, and her lower lip is thick in the middle like it was made on purpose to suck on. Her upper lip was thinner, and you'd never guess by looking just how wide that mouth could open.

It was funny, remembering other places she had kissed me, especially since she didn't remember it, and I was sorry for that. I was sure that Jean and I could restore her memory, but it seemed selfish to want her to remember me, and in any case I was sure it would destroy what looked like a promising friendship, especially since I couldn't really explain to her about the whole 'witch' thing. Forward was the only way to go with Sarah, as with so many things.

I returned the greeting and the kiss, and she smelled like baking with a light floral undertone. She smelled like Sarah.

"Follow me," I said and we went into the elevator and I punched in the code for my floor.

"I guess your place is pretty high up, huh?" she commented as the numbers flashed past "ten".

"Pretty high, yes," I admitted. I liked the look on her face when the last floor blinked out and the elevator kept on going. She looked at me with her eyebrows up under her bangs, she was cute like that.

Jean was waiting for her in the doorway, and she made me take the bag from Sarah so that she could give her a proper hug.

We were maybe a little excited at having our first guest.

"I love your place," Sarah said as she looked around.

"Thanks," I told her. "How long 'till supper, Jean, and does any of this need to go in the fridge, Sarah?"

"No on the fridge," Sarah answered.

"About an hour and a half, I'm afraid, but there is antipasto if anyone is hungry," Jean added.

"How about a tour first?" Sarah asked.

"Of course, Pansy, show her around while I get us something to have on the terrace. Drink, Sarah?"

"Gin and orange?" she asked hopefully.

"Tanqueray or Boodles?"

"Boodles? Then neat, with a glass of ice cubes on the side, if that's okay," Sarah specified.

"Coming right up," Jean answered with a smile.

"The tour won't take long," I promised, it's mostly one big room apart from the bedrooms. Sarah nodded as she looked around.

"What's with the library?" she asked.

"Jean is preparing for the UKCATs."

"Damn, a great rack like that and she's smart too? You're a lucky girl."

"Don't I just know it. The guest room is through here," I said, taking her over to the door and opening it.

"Pretty, I love the colors. Oh, it has its own bath?"

"Yes," I said, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed.

"This room is bigger than my flat," Sarah told me.

Make that really embarrassed.

She liked the view from Jean's room, and she really liked my bath. She'd have _loved _the view from the mirror, but I didn't show her that.

"I've never actually seen a tub like this," she said, "must be nice to soak in."

"It's pretty relaxing," I admitted.

"Maybe, but I was thinking more of having sex in it. Oh, I'm sorry, that just sort of popped out."

I grinned at her; she was cute when she was flustered.

"If you like, after dinner I'll show you the controls and you can have a go in it. You don't need a partner to have sex in this thing," I promised.

"You're a good friend, Pansy," she told me with a grin of her own.

I was determined to be one, because I'd never really been one before, besides, I was having fun.

It was a little odd showing her my bedroom like it was her first time there, when she'd been there before with Jean watching as she buried her tongue in me.

"Ready for that drink?" I asked her.

"Absolutely, you've got a great place here."

"Thank you, and thanks for coming tonight."

"If I come tonight I'll be thanking you. That tub looks really interesting," she said, and she grinned again.

Cute. The girl had cute all right.

"I set up a table on the terrace, it's decent outside this evening," Jean let us know, and we went outside together.

Sarah sat in one of the lounge chairs and sighed deeply.

"Long day?" Jean asked her.

"Very. The owner of the shop has been ill, so I've been covering everything. I don't mind, he's a good boss, but I'm kind of beat, yeah."

"Here's your drink, why the ice on the side?"

"Watch," Sarah said, so we did. One thing about me, I know how to watch.

She took a cube of ice and stuck it in her mouth. You could see it pushing against her cheeks as she moved it around with her tongue. After a bit she kind of hid the glass with her hands and let the ice fall back into it, then she took a good solid mouthful of gin and sat back in her chair with her eyes closed.

Jean and I glanced at each other briefly, and then concentrated on Sarah. You could see the tension flowing out of her and in a little while her throat worked as she swallowed.

"God, that's good gin," she said. "Oh, I guess maybe you haven't tried it like that. It's a sin to cut good liquor like that, even with ice. But I like my drinks cool, as a rule. So I hold an ice cube in my mouth until I can't stand it any longer, then take a good sip and hold it for a while. The booze slowly warms up your mouth, and with an aromatic spirit like gin the vapors kind of crawl around inside your head and you can really taste the stuff. Or maybe that's just me, I'm pretty sensitive, orally."

No shit.

I took the shot of tequila that Jean had given me and knocked it back, and Jean took a way bigger than average swallow of her scotch and soda.

"Does it work with cognac?" I asked her.

"Never tried it."

"You can use the guest room," I told her. "I have a feeling none of us is going to be fit to walk by the time this night is over. Can I have an ice cube?"

We took it easy until supper, but Sarah was right, it was kind of a whole other way to drink.

"This is the best lasagna I've ever eaten," Sarah declared.

"There's more," Jean told her.

"Yes, please," she said, and Jean took her plate back to the cooker.

"There's desert," I mentioned.

"Good. I guess I'm making a pig out of myself, but it's great, and I never gain weight. I have the metabolism of a hamster," she explained.

"I may decide to hate you after all," Jean told her as she sat the plate down in front of her. "I don't know why I bother to eat the stuff, I should just stick it on my ass and hips and stomach and save the time."

"Don't forgot your knockers," I cautioned.

"Nobody could forget those," Sarah said while she openly admired them. "I don't suppose you'd care to make a donation to a poor, under-endowed little baker girl?"

"I'll leave them to you in my will, but I'd trade figures with you in an instant. I guess most people are unhappy with some aspect of their bodies, though," Jean said.

"Not me. I'm stacked," I said dismissively.

They _both_ stuck their tongues out at me.

"Yeah, yeah, but I didn't hear either one of you disagree. Shovel that stuff down, hamster girl, I'll be ready for desert as soon as I finish this bread. Between you and Jean I might lose my perfect figure, but what's life without risk?"

The zabaglione was great; those eggs had died in a good cause. I think Sarah might have actually had an orgasm eating it, judging from the look on her face.

"I have never had a meal this good, thank you so much for inviting me," she told us when we were done.

"You're too kind, and thank you for coming," Jean replied for both of us.

"We need to do this often," I said, "but let's save the group hug for later, there is drinking to be done, ladies."

We put an ice bucket, glasses and a whole bunch of bottles on the low table in the sitting area, dragged the cushions onto the floor like Jean and I usually did, and sat leaning against the sofa while we debated which liquor was best using Sarah's method.

Sarah picked the Remy Louis XIII, with Boodles a close second. Jean went with a Macallan sherry oak single malt that was older the she was.

I picked something at random because I was remembering things, and nothing seemed to taste as good as Sarah right then. I suppose I should have felt bad about that, but I figured I got points for not saying it out loud. I was even thinking about the ice, and that was interesting too.

Thank goodness Sarah started talking and took my mind off how things tasted, at least a little.

"I bake, Jean is studying for her UKCATs, so what do you do, Pansy?" Sarah asked.

_"I watch Jean,"_ I didn't say.

"I'm getting set to run the family business, mostly farms and stuff, pretty boring really," I said, hoping to get the topic off of me. "How long have you been baking?"

"Since I was a little kid. I've always loved the smell of the dough, the way it feels in my hands when I knead it," she shrugged, "I've been working at the shop for three years now. I take some business courses when I can afford to, I'd really like my own shop one day. Kind of a tea room, but with real baked goods, substantial stuff, not just fussy little pastries and digestive biscuits," she shrugged again. "I managed to get the boss to let me have that little table, but he doesn't really want to get into that."

"Have you ever considered baking for a restaurant?" I asked her. "I've never had anything as good as what you make."

"Thanks, but I don't like that environment. It's really high pressure, and you might think I'm weird for saying it, but I think tension is bad for the dough. It makes it a little tough, or something."

"Actually, that makes perfect sense to me," Jean told her.

Sarah rolled her head around and rubbed the back of her neck.

"Oh, I promised you a good soak. Sarah liked the look of the tub," I explained.

"It's marvelous for relaxing, I'm sure you'll enjoy it," Jean assured her.

"I'd love to, but it seems sort of rude. I mean, you invite me over and feed me great food and booze, and I go off and soak in your tub…"

"You'd be doing us a favor," I explained, "we can't have our baker being tense. Makes the dough tough."

"You've talked me into it, and thanks. You guys are great. Lead the way."

We all went, and I started the water.

"Here, get the temperature like you want it. Would you like bath salts or something?"

"I'm afraid I don't have much experience with them. There's just a shared shower at my place and I try not to linger any longer in it than I can help."

"Leave it to me, then," I told her, and I dumped in some stuff that I really like.

"God, that smells good," Sarah said, breathing in the steam from the rising water. "Is somebody going to show me how to drive this thing?"

"Sure, sing out when you get settled in," I said, "and I'll come back in long enough to show you."

"I'm not shy, if you are, close your eyes or something, but this thing looks big enough for all of us to me," Sarah said, and she kicked off her shoes and unbuckled her belt.

I looked over at Jean, and she shrugged and gave me a sly grin because she knew damn well I'd play hell leaving that room now. By the time I'd turned back to her Sarah was naked and testing the water with a foot.

We'd both seen her naked before, but the circumstances were very different, and in a way it was like seeing her for the first time. Sarah had a gymnast's body, compact and strong. Maybe it was from years of kneading dough, but her shoulders were square and you could see muscles moving under the skin of her arms.

"What? Oh, am I embarrassing you? I'm sorry."

"No," Jean said, "we're not embarrassed; it's just that you're – "

"You're pretty darn hot, Sarah," I admitted. She grinned.

"Thanks, a girl likes to be appreciated," she admitted. She stepped into the tub and sat down; the water just barely covered her breasts. "Well, come on, you don't have anything I haven't seen before."

She was really telling the truth there.

"I'll be right back," Jean said, and she hurried from the room.

"Too much? Did I goof up, I mean I'm so comfortable with you two that I didn't really think about it," Sarah asked with concern plain in her voice.

"She'll be back, Jean's not shy," I responded, and I started pulling off my clothes. This wasn't anywhere near the strangest thing I'd done, even with Sarah. She watched openly as I undressed, and I liked that. I was also surprised that I wasn't more turned on. I mean, I surely wasn't turned _off_, but it was just a comfortable tingle.

"You're right, you're stacked. I admit it," Sarah said when I turned around.

"She is, isn't she?" Jean asked, returning with a tray. She'd brought wine and glasses, and a little bowl of strawberries, and she sat the tray on the deck of the tub before shedding her own clothes.

Both Sarah and I watched her.

"Like I said, Pansy, you're a lucky, lucky, girl," Sarah commented in admiration.

Jean blushed a little. All over.

It was great.

She climbed in too, and it felt a little odd sitting with her naked like that, but Sarah being there helped and pretty soon I was relaxed.

"That knob on the edge controls the jets for your seat, Sarah. It's just like a volume control, the farther you turn it the more forceful the jets. The switch to the side changes it from steady to pulse. Have fun."

Sarah looked at me suspiciously, but turned the knob.

"Oh! Oh my, that's –"

Her eyes closed and she leaned back. The jet that was causing that reaction could be turned off, but she didn't ask, so…

I glanced over at Jean and saw that she was watching Sarah with an expression somewhere between amused and aroused.

Sarah's breathing got deeper, and she had that thick part of her lower lip in between her teeth. She reached over and turned the knob a little more, and the water boiled up around her. I felt a new current, and saw that Jean had hers on now too, so I figured I'd join in.

Both of us were staring at Sarah, her short hair was plastered to her head, and she was panting now. If she was aware of us being there she gave no sign of it. She let out a little hiss, and I could just make out that her hands were squeezing her breasts under the bubbling water.

A low sound came from Jean, and a quick glance showed me that her head was laid back on the edge of the tub. The angle of her arms showed me that her hands were busy between her legs.

"Ohgod, ahhh – " I heard and I quickly turned my attention back to Sarah. My neck was going to hurt from this, but I didn't much care. I turned up my own jets and then found better things to do with my hands.

Jean was making quick little whimpering sounds, and I knew she was getting close. I was probably making some sort of noise but I wasn't paying attention to that, and I was looking right at Sarah's face when her eyes opened.

She looked me right in the eyes while she reached over and hit the switch for pulse, then she cranked the power all the way up and her eyes rolled back in her head.

I heard Jean coming; I could always tell just from the sound now, several short, sharp, inhalations followed by an exhalation that could be anything from a whoosh to a scream. This time it was closer to a scream.

"Oh, fuucckkk!" Sarah yelled, and just before my own orgasm took me I saw her shoot up onto the edge of the tub with her knees wide open and fuck herself so hard her hand was a blur.

When my eyes opened back up Jean and Sarah had turned off their jets, and I did the same. There was a lot of heavy breathing, and I might have imagined it but the air in the room seemed to have a slightly different smell to it now.

"If either of you wants gentle bubbles it can do that too," I told them.

"Yes, please," Jean said, and Sarah nodded in agreement. I opened up the master console by my side and soon the surface was softly rippling and the direct flow jets were off.

"How much does one of these cost?" Sarah asked.

I was amazed that there were no awkward feelings at all, nobody made rude jokes to cover up embarrassment, we were all just thoroughly relaxed and happy.

"Champagne, anyone?" Jean asked.

The champagne on top of the booze and the hot water and the orgasms had everyone so sleepy there was real danger of drowning, so we dragged ourselves out and I handed towels around.

"Come on, Sarah, and we'll get your bed made up," Jean said. We were all kind of nodding off in my bedroom, wrapped in towels.

"Why bother? That thing looks big enough for all of us," Sarah demurred, pointing at my bed. "I know you two aren't sleeping together, but I can act like a bundling bag or something. I promise I'm too tired and sleepy to threaten anyone's virtue tonight, but I wouldn't mind some company. I don't take up much room and I don't snore. Come on."

She didn't wait for an answer, she just walked over to the bed and peeled the covers back, dropped her towel, and crawled onto the middle of the bed. She patted the mattress on either side of her.

"Come on," she repeated, "I'll be the middle spoon but get in here before all the warm goes away."

Jean and I exchanged a 'what the hell' look, dropped our towels, got in bed on either side of Sarah and pulled up the covers. There was a brief period of shuffling around, and then I was settled on my side with Sarah's warm little arm draped over my waist. I could just barely feel her breath on the back of my neck and then I was gone.

I have fallen asleep under far less pleasant circumstances.

XXXXX

It was the best dream I have ever had. Ever

It was different than my usual dreams because I couldn't see anything. In my dream I was lying on my back, and my arms were stretched up over my head. I could barely move them, though. My hands were together and I could only shift them a bare inch or so before something stopped them. Same sort of thing with my legs, except my feet were far apart, almost painfully so.

I wasn't really uncomfortable though, I just couldn't move.

And I couldn't see. There might have been something kind of soft over my eyes but I couldn't move my hands to check. But I felt okay, kind of good, actually.

Then something touched one of my arms, just below the elbow. It was a soft touch, kind of like a butterfly's wings, but it didn't tickle, it just felt nice. The touch traveled down my arm, over my armpit, down the side of my breast. It had just reached my ribs when I felt a similar thing on the other arm. This touch was firmer than the other one, like a bigger butterfly, I guess, but it moved the same way, with the same lack of haste. Like it didn't have somewhere to go, really, but was just enjoying the trip.

It was nice, and I'm sure I was smiling.

The touches joined up right at my belly button, and they took turns kind of playing there, and I kind of giggled or something. Then they separated again, and traveled down the outside of my thighs, and the touch flattened out, and the pressure and warmth increased and slid around to the backs of my knees and rubbed softly before changing again. Something warm encircled my legs just below my knees and squeezed its way down to my ankles and then disappeared.

I felt warm air on my toes, and then something warm and wet and soft touched each of them in turn before it kind of swallowed them, again, each of them in turn. It didn't tickle at all, and I think I might have kind of whimpered about then, but you know how it is with dreams.

My breath caught in my throat then, because some hard, fairly sharp things were scraping up the inside of my legs. It was interesting, kind of a pleasurable sting, and I tried to shift my legs. I still couldn't move them, but I didn't mind, because the things were getting higher on my inner thighs, and it was feeling better all the time even though it still stung a little.

One touch vanished, and I felt a sense of loss, but just then the other one smoothed out and pressed on my tummy and moved slowly upward. About the time that one moved to cup my breast the other one returned and started stroking my pussy and I shuddered, but I didn't wake up and I think I moaned a little in my sleep.

Something was brushing across my nipples then, and sometimes it was soft and sometimes it had a sort of edge to it like the thing that had slid up my inner thigh. I liked that, and then it was a pinching, twisting sort of thing and I liked that even more, but maybe not as much as the things that felt like fingers sliding down the sides of my pussy and then closing in, squeezing it over and over, rubbing it firmly and starting to make a wet sort of sound down there.

One of my tits, the whole thing, was surrounded by something that was squeezing it almost hard enough to hurt, but then something wet, and warm, and slippery, was circling the nipple and then something was sucking on it and I didn't mind the squeezing any more, even though it kept going on. I'm pretty sure I said something then, but I don't think it made much sense.

Something was pulling on my lower lips, softly squeezing and rolling them and I could feel wetness spreading around down there. I hadn't heard much of anything to this point except that wet sound from my pussy and a sucking sound from around my nipples but now I could maybe hear some breathing sorts of sounds.

But you know how it is with dreams.

Then something was nudging my entrance, down there where the wet was coming from, sort of teasing at it, then it pressed inward, and I could feel it go just barely inside me and I wanted to say how good it felt but when I opened my mouth something hot and wet filled it up and started kind of wrapping itself around my tongue so the best I could do was this kind of choked-off groaning sort of noise, and anyway, right then whatever it was in my dream that was just barely inside me kind of twisted way deep into me in one smooth, twisting slide and was curling inside me kind of like the thing in my mouth was doing and I stopped trying to talk.

I wanted to touch whatever it was in my dream that was making me feel so good, but I couldn't move my arms, and I wondered what it was, but I couldn't see. I don't guess it mattered, really, because it was a dream.

Something else pushed its way inside me alongside the other thing, and they turned and twisted and curled while some other things closed on my nipple with that sharp feeling and tugged on it. There was a sound sort of like a snake, and that made sense in the dream because I'm a Slytherin. My mouth was empty then, so I started to say something about the snake when something heavy and soft pressed against my lips and it seemed that the thing to do was to open my mouth and suck on it because it just felt like the right thing to do, you know? I could feel part of it getting kind of wrinkly and hard against my tongue, so I sucked harder and I heard the snake again but I didn't try and say anything this time because my mouth was busy, and one more thing was shoving into my pussy and then all of them were sliding in and out faster and faster and I could feel something bumping hard against my pussy right before they slid back out and that felt really good.

I still couldn't move much, but my hips seemed to be bouncing and rocking like they were trying to get whatever they were deeper inside of me, or get more of them in there or get them to go harder, and maybe I made some sort of sensible sound around whatever was in my mouth because they did get harder and faster and that was even better.

Like I said, best dream ever, and I knew it couldn't get any better.

Then it did.

I felt a pressure on the other opening down there, a gradual insistent pressure that gently opened me and then filled the rest of me. I could feel it pulling, stretching, and something warm and wet traveled up my slit from where the fingers were pounding into me up to my clit and kind of slashed from side to side over it.

Couldn't get better, but something else pushed its way into my bum and twisted, and pulled, and some wet stuff spread around down there and it felt so _good_. I hadn't really noticed that my mouth was empty now, and that was okay anyhow because now all of the things inside me were moving together and something was sucking hard on my clit and it just couldn't get any better.

I was having trouble breathing, but that didn't matter because it was a dream, and you know how dreams are, and the lovely ache was building down there and the wet sounds were getting louder and I was dreaming about screaming in my dream when it got better.

I felt something soft and heavy over me, and my nose twitched because there was this wonderful smell. It reminded me of melon, and the ocean, but it had a kind of sharp tang to it. It was incredible, and I opened my mouth, trying to taste the smell, I guess.

You know how dreams are.

Something hot and wet and soft, that tasted just like that smell pressed against my mouth, and because it was the thing to do I lapped at it with my tongue and sucked at it with my lips and swallowed whatever it was because it tasted so damn _good_ and I tried to touch it but I couldn't move my arms and I tried to wrap my legs around whatever was setting my lower body on fire but I couldn't move my legs and it couldn't get any better it just couldn't get any better couldn't - get - _fuuuccckkkk..._

XXXXX

I woke up curled in a tight ball on my side, and I stretched slowly so as not to disturb anyone else. I needn't have bothered; I was alone in the bed. I took advantage of that by stretching extravagantly.

I felt great, and I drew in a great big breath of air, clean down to my toes.

I paused mid-stretch, and sniffed, and the dream came flooding back, every detail of it, and I couldn't help smiling even though I was starting to worry that maybe I'd thrashed around and kicked Sarah or Jean and that was why they were gone. But the clock told me that I'd slept in, so maybe I hadn't done that.

I rubbed my face with my hands like usual in the morning, and my face was kind of sticky. Then I noticed that good ache between my legs and I reached down there and it was _really_ sticky, and while I was still happy I was thinking about worrying again, but what the hell, it was a dream. Great dream. Best dream ever, but just a dream.

I got up and was going to pull the covers up when I noticed the wet spot.

Okay, swamp.

I was actually kind of proud of it, but it needed to be dealt with, and I sure needed a shower, so I stripped the bed and was headed to the bath but something told me to look back. I pulled off the mattress pad and carried the lot into the bathroom and scourgified them several times before dumping them down the chute.

They were paid to clean stuff, but I had to live here, and really.

But I was smiling as I stepped into the shower.

I'll admit to being a little nervous when I walked into the kitchen, but they just looked up at me and smiled.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Jean greeted me.

"Morning, sorry about the lie-in, I guess I was tired. I hope I didn't snore or anything," I tried to say nonchalantly.

"If you did I didn't notice," Sarah assured me. "We haven't been up all that long either, breakfast isn't even done."

"Sarah showed me how to do popovers," Jean said happily.

Girl loves to learn, doesn't matter what.

"Can I help?"

"You can set the table," Jean said, "and you can make us mimosas."

"Consider it done," I declared, more than a little relieved.

"I can't believe I don't have a headache, not even an upset stomach," Sarah said, shaking her head. "I drank a _lot_."

It was no harder to slip in the hangover potion than it was to pour booze.

"Good company prevents hangovers," I told her, "so does the steam from the tub."

"Well there was plenty of steam in that tub," Sarah responded. "I love that thing, and..."

Sarah blushed, and I'm not sure I'd ever seen that before.

"It's all right, Sarah," Jean said gently, "go ahead."

"Well, being with the two of you, that made it better," Sarah continued slowly, "the tub was great, but it was being with you two that made it special. I can see how much you love each other, feel it, and that kind of spilled over onto me. And you really seem to like me. I know what this place costs, and how expensive that booze is, but you never rubbed my nose in it. You opened your home to me and made me feel welcome, you treated me like an equal when Jean is going to be a dentist and Pansy is obviously rich."

She fell silent, and sucked on her bottom lip. I am ashamed to say that that got to me. It's a damn nice lip. Damn nice.

"I'm not unhappy," she continued, "I love what I do, and I'm really good at it. I can get company, male or female, pretty much whenever I want it. But that's not the same thing as having friends. Friends are special, you know?"

That was the time for the group hug, because Sarah was right, friends are special.

The popovers melted in my mouth.

Maybe the best thing was when Sarah let me take her home in a taxi and accepted the rest of the Remy and the leftover lasagna with no hesitation at all. She knew it was just a gift of friendship, and she let us do it. Accepting a gift honors the giver.

I was a countess.

Sarah had class.

I saw her in to her flat and then rode home in the taxi, thinking about friendship and rubbing the faint, red, mark on my wrist.


	18. Chapter 18

Author: Lash_Larue  
Title: "Eventual Envelopment" Chapter 18 of 21

Pairing: Jean/Pansy Hermione/Pansy  
Rating: R

Warning * bit of naughty language *

Word Count: 3600

Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling

A/N: This chapter is more fluffy than smutty. Also, there is foreshadowing... ( I love that word, sounds like a threat...)

Eventual Envelopment"

Chapter Eighteen

"Just Good Business..."

We had fallen into a satisfying and productive routine, one which allowed for some spontaneous moments to keep us from going insane.

Jean had showed me how to make study guides, and it really did help me. Strictly speaking, I didn't really have to do this. I could simply accept the title and delegate the day to day affairs of the estate, but my grandmother had held the reins herself and I intended to as well.

Sarah was a sort of regular visitor now, and we had become the easy and natural sort of friends that didn't need to filter thoughts and words because we accepted one another as we were. Her regard for us, and her appreciation of our growing relationship had helped both Jean and me move towards really believing in our love for each other, and either one of us would have done anything at all for her.

I really wanted to give her a flat in the building; it was mine, and there were plenty of empty flats because I didn't really need the income from them and had no desire to have the place filled with people I didn't know or care to know.

Bertram was not best pleased about this, because he regarded it as an extravagant waste, but the building was not part of the titular properties. He was right, of course, but I was not otherwise too extravagant in my lifestyle. Most of the fancy wines and liquors I pinched from my mother's cellars. She didn't drink anyway.

There was an artist on the third floor who never made any noise and who would do my official portrait when the time came, which would be fairly soon. I'd done a few sittings for him over the last month or so and the preliminary sketches were very good even though he refused to change my nose. Arsehole.

Two of Bertram's younger associates had flats on the second floor, and Derrick had one on the first with direct access to the garage beneath the building. He spent the bulk of his time at my grandmother's house where he helped with the day to day stuff. Jean hadn't met any of them yet, but she would have to meet Derrick sooner or later and I hoped one day to get her to sit for a nude portrait with the guy on the third, but it wasn't time for that yet.

I did however succeed in getting several good candid shots of her studying, and I had him working on a painting from that one. He didn't like working from photographs, but I was his landlord and he'd make a lot on my portrait so he had sense enough to do it. Jean was chewing on her bottom lip and twirling her hair around a finger, and I loved that sight.

It made me wet.

I had actually started doing some of my own laundry so there wouldn't be so many cotton knickers in the wash.

But all that aside, Sarah had her own place, and she worked hard for what she had and I respected her for it, and for the kind of person she was, and I was afraid that if I offered the flat that she would feel like I wanted her for a pet, and I didn't. I needed her as a friend, and as someone to look up to.

There were still two months to go before Jean's examinations, and I had a message from Bertram that he needed to see me, so I kissed the top of Jean's head and went downstairs when the car arrived.

I walked into the conference room and everyone stood up, and a smiling Bertram said, "Welcome, Your Grace," and he bowed, as did everyone else.

Well shit, it had actually happened.

There had to be a dinner, of course, but I insisted on waiting until after Jean either took her test or postponed it to a later time so as not to disrupt her studies. I also needed to get suits made for both of us because the dinner was official. I wasn't going to wear a gown; it wasn't a ball, more of an introduction of me to people who already knew me, but now I was filling my grandmother's shoes and I did have to dress to a certain standard. This time, anyway.

I also had to decide what to wear for my portrait, and I wanted Jean's help with that, so I arranged a Sunday appointment with a tailor.

I hoped Jean wouldn't kill me.

When I got home it looked like she hadn't moved at all.

"Did you eat lunch?" I asked her.

"Oh! Hi, glad you're back, how was your meeting?"

"Fine. Did you eat lunch?"

"Well, no," she admitted.

"Come on then. We'll hit the pub and get a carry out order so Sarah can have some too, but you know the deal. You have to take time to eat; I can't have all that yumminess wasting away before I get the chance to appreciate it properly."

"Flatterer," she accused, but she smiled. So did something in my pants, Jean's smile did that to me every time.

I had called ahead, and the pub had our order ready just a few minutes after we arrived. The bag was almost uncomfortably warm in my hands during the short walk to the bakery.

We were later than usual, and Sarah wasn't out front so we just sat at the table and waited. She would have heard the bell and would be right out. I turned when I heard the door to the kitchen open and I heard Jean gasp softly.

Sarah looked like hell.

Her eyes were swollen and her nose was red and it was obvious that she'd been crying, and as soon as she saw us she broke into fresh tears. I hurried over to her and put my arms around her and she clung to me and sobbed so hard I thought that she might shake apart.

After a while she calmed down a little and Jean went and got a towel and dampened it for her while I guided her to a chair.

"What's wrong?" I asked her.

I had one of her small hands held in both of mine and Jean stood behind her rubbing her back, and after a couple of hiccups she drew in a shuddering breath and started talking.

"My boss has cancer," she said in a hoarse whisper, "my boss has cancer and I'm a selfish little bitch who is more worried about herself than that poor man who has always been kind to me."

"I've never seen you act selfishly, Sarah," I told her. That was the pure truth, she was the most generous lover I had ever had, whether she knew it or not, and she had been a real friend to Jean and me.

"He's really sick, and there is a clinic in Switzerland that has had good success treating this type of cancer, but it's expensive, so he's going to sell the bakery and his other property to go. He's very ill, and all I can think of is how I won't have a job or a home, such as it is," she blew her nose on the towel.

"I get it about the job, but what about your flat?"

"He owns a little building, four flats and a communal bath. Well, he lives there too and has his own bath, so three flats share the loo. It's not fancy, but the rent was cheap and it's right on the bus line so I could get to work easily. When I had a job, that is. He's selling that too and the new owner is going to turn it into one big flat and live there himself."

"You know you can stay with us, don't you?" Jean asked, and I added my assurances to hers.

"That's sweet of you, and that would be okay for a short time, but I can't disrupt your lives like that. Especially once you start King's College, Jean. I know how hard it is for me to study my stupid little business courses with just a few neighbors coming and going, you can't have somebody in and out at odd hours, to say nothing of me bringing home a date or something," she protested.

"I'm sure the new owners will keep you on, you're a brill baker, Sarah," I tried, but that only brought on a fresh wave of tears. She controlled herself with an effort, and continued.

"That's the worst part. Mike, my boss, had to sell quickly and the only offer he's had is from fucking Starbucks! I don't mind their coffee, but it's not what you'd call a bakery and they don't need a baker. Besides, even if they offered me a job I couldn't take it. This has been a bakery for over two centuries. I couldn't bear to walk into it once it's been remodeled."

"There might be a way to prevent the sale," Jean speculated, "it's practically historic."

"Maybe, but I couldn't do that to Mike. He needs the money desperately, he'd rather not sell to them, but his options are limited," Sarah explained.

"That doesn't sound selfish of you to me," I told her. "Tell me, when is all this happening?"

"The bakery will close Friday. Mike signs the papers on Saturday. The deal on the flat is already closed but Mike made the buyer give us until the end of the month."

"Okay then," I began, "I mean, not okay, but I understand. First off, Jean and I will not allow you to worry about a place to stay, understand? We're both bigger than you are, and Jean is a badass. Trust me; she'll kick your bits clear up into your stomach if you give us any crap about staying with us."

Jean kissed her cheek and whispered to her - "I really will, you know."

That got a shaky smile.

"Next, eat your lunch before the grease gets solid; I know you haven't eaten a thing today. Jean will make tea." Jean left to make tea. "There have to be other bakeries, surely you can find another position?"

"Oh, I know, but it will take time, and I really love this place. I told you I was being selfish about this. I had hoped that once I finished my classes I could take over the business side of the shop, Mike would have been able to pay me more, and then I could have maybe saved up enough to buy him out when he wanted to retire. I thought I had twenty years or so, but I've got two days, no job, no savings, no credit and no chance," she said miserably.

I put my arm around her shoulders and squeezed.

"There's always a chance, little one, and you've got us. Eat the goddam fish, right?"

Jean arrived with the tea and I went to the loo and called Bertram.

XXXXX

"You're coming home with us," I told Sarah as she locked up the bakery Friday evening.

"We're not about to leave you alone this evening," Jean confirmed.

"I should take the keys to Mike," Sarah said hesitantly.

"He has another set he can give the new owners, doesn't he?" I asked.

"Yes, but -"

"Don't worry about it," Jean cut in, "the new owners will surely change the locks. Come on Sarah, Pansy swiped some new booze from her mum and you can help me with the pastry for the beef welly."

"I love you guys," Sarah said.

"We know, and the feeling is mutual. Shit, Sarah, you're the only real friend we have. Besides," I said, lowering my voice to a stage whisper, "Jean could really use a bit of help on the pastry for the Wellington..."

That got a little smile. One thing about Sarah, she bounces back. This had to be a real low point for her, and she might be down, but she wasn't out.

Jean and Sarah got to work on supper and I opened a bottle of Riesling for us, it was crisp and light and I hoped it would provide a little pick-me-up for Sarah. Frankly, I think working on the pastry was of more benefit to her. If you forced her to choose between baking and sex for the rest of her life I wouldn't bet either way.

They were too busy to pay attention to me so I went over to the study table and spread out some business papers I had been working on.

"Things need to rest a bit," Jean announced, "is there anything we can help you with, Pansy?"

"Actually, yes, I could use your opinions on this. Come and tell me what you think." They came and stood on either side of me. "These are preliminary drawings of an investment property I just acquired. Sarah, do I need to replace any kitchen equipment?"

"Umm, I do know a bit about kitchen stuff, but I can't tell that from a drawing, Pansy."

"Look closer," I suggested.

She did, and her hands flew to her mouth as her eyes went round.

It was worth it for that moment alone, but I expected to be able to turn a profit on this or I wouldn't have done it.

Well, maybe not, anyway.

"That's my bakery!" Sarah exclaimed.

"Partially, anyway, if you want in on it," I agreed.

"How? Why -" she looked at me with tears streaming down her face. She must have cried hard enough to splash us because my cheeks were damp too and I heard Jean blow her nose.

"It's a good investment, especially since I know someone who can run it properly. It's an established shop, it has consistently made a solid profit, and my advisors and I like your ideas for incorporating a tea room."

"I'll explain the offer, but first I want you to know that Mike was delighted. He hated the idea of selling out to a big chain and he hated even more the thought of putting you out of work. Starbucks withdrew their offer when my attorney contacted them and explained that they might run into an avalanche of red tape by trying to convert a neighborhood bakery into a chain outlet. In fact he kind of promised them that they would. He was also able to locate another site for them and the profit on that sale will pay for most of this renovation. We offered Mike five percent more because he took a sort of low ball offer from them."

"So Mike is good, you don't have to worry about him. Well, apart from his illness, that is. Okay?"

"Okay," she agreed, sniffing loudly. Jean passed around tissues.

"The plan is this; you run the place, especially the bakery end. The business will pay you an hourly wage, because if you were on salary you'd get screwed because you'd work too long. You'll have a budget for wages but we aren't going to try and do this on a shoestring. We're also looking at acquiring the adjoining business for when we expand, and I want your input on that, especially. We can't let the quality of the baked goods slide, but I do anticipate an increase in business. Make sense so far?"

She nodded.

"We'll need somebody else to run the tea side of things, but we have time for that. First I want to get the bakery completely squared away, and Mike said some of the equipment was pretty old. When the time comes you'll have final say on every person that works there, and you'll be in overall charge. Now then, for reasons that will become clear later, I would prefer that you be listed as owner, but I propose this; as the backer I'll take seventy percent of the profits, and I mean the real profits, after all expenses. Five percent will be set aside for employee bonuses, apart from you. You'll get five percent for yourself. That leaves twenty percent, and my idea is to invest that and try to grow it. Half of the income from that will be yours, and if you want, it can apply towards you buying the thing back from me."

She stared at me.

"None of this is set in stone, of course, particularly the exact percentages, but I figure if we even come close to projections you can own the place outright in about twenty-five years. That is, if you want to do it at all. You'll notice that this isn't a gift, you'll have to work hard, and by the time you can buy me out you'll have made me a lot of money."

She kept staring, and I was starting to be afraid that I had offended her somehow, but then she turned to Jean and said -

"Please don't kick me in my bits, but I really want to kiss your girl."

"Okay, just this once, as long as you kiss me after," Jean granted graciously.

I think I've mentioned before that Sarah could kiss.

I may have understated things.

The Wellington was sublime, and by the time we had finished the poached pears Sarah had relaxed a good bit.

"I still can't believe this, Pansy. I mean, I know you wouldn't joke about this, but still..." she said.

"Like I said, you'll make me a lot of money. If you get something that you want out of this it just makes it better for all of us. And you might want to get the terms looked over by an expert. You're a friend, and I won't hide anything or cheat you, ever, but this is business, plain and simple."

"We might have to tweak the percentages a little," she told me with a grin, "I know what I'm worth as a baker. Now all I have to do is find another flat I can afford. I still have school to pay for, and Mike gave me a big break on the rent."

"Well, you'll be making more money up front. In addition to whatever overtime you get, your wage will go up substantially. That's another thing we have to hash out. You're a damn good baker, a damn good kisser, and you're hot, but..."

"Fair enough. At least I have a little time. I'm comfortable with you two, but I really can't just move in. I might drag home a loud one and disturb Jean's studying."

"Your school is a business expense as long as it's business related. Just study hard. Jean can help with that if you need it, Jean can study like a - well..."

"Thank you, Pansy dear," Jean said, "but it's time for the other shoe, I think."

"Right, come on, Sarah, we've got something to show you."

Sarah trusted us enough not to ask questions, she just followed us to the lift and I pushed the button for the "top" floor. We got out when the thing stopped. There were two doors in the hallway and I led us to the one on the right side and opened it.

"Two bedrooms, two baths. Small terrace. Laundry service if you want to pay for it, laundry room if you'd rather do your own. If you ever get a car you can keep it in the basement garage. That's a perk, nobody else but me has access to it. I know what you paid Mike, and this is three times as much, but you can walk to work and you don't have to pay for school, so you might be able to swing it," I told her.

"Pansy..." I shrugged.

"It's my building. My grandmother left it to me. Most of the flats are empty because I don't really need the income from rent and I want everybody in this building to be someone who can do me some good and not piss me off. Frankly, I'd let you live here for free, but I didn't think you'd go for it."

"You're right," Sarah said as she looked around, "but even three times as much as I paid Mike isn't a quarter of what this is worth. What the fuck, if I'm gonna make you a bunch of money with the shop, I'll pay the utilities and we can skip the rent. How's that?"

The Sorting Hat would have put that girl in Slytherin the second she walked through the gates. She beat me up on the percentages, too.

"Done. Pick out the colors and I'll repaint. Get your own damn furniture though. There is work to be done in the master bath, but it should be finished before you have to leave where you are now," I told her.

"Or you can stay with us until this is done," Jean added.

"Thanks, and I'll surely stay tonight, but I might sleep in the guest room. Pansy thrashes around in her sleep."

Little bitch. I loved every inch of her, and so did Jean. We might have only had one friend, but we had a damn good one.

I like helping out a friend, I really do, but my motherfucking _bones_ are green and silver. The flat was fine, but I was having a tub installed just like mine, and that would take time.

So would getting the spells in place. Shit, I'd have paid her to stay there too.


	19. Chapter 19

Author: Lash_Larue  
Title: "Eventual Envelopment" Chapter 19 of 21

Pairing: Jean/Pansy  
Rating: R

Warnings * Good bit of naughty language, Suicidal thoughts, Depression, Rage *

Word Count: 3000

Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling

A/N: Possible triggers, see warnings. Please don't beat me up on the heraldry, that stuff is confusing, and I'm an American. We don't really play that, but I don't mind if you do.

"Eventual Envelopment"

Chapter Nineteen

"Anger"

Something was wrong with me. I mean, beyond the obvious things. I was angry, deep-down, gut-and-bone level angry, and I had no real idea why. I was starting to think I knew 'who', though, and it was me.

Things were going splendidly, and I should have been happy. Well, I was happy, but I was also really pissed off, and it was starting to show. I wasn't mean to people, not to Bertram, or my staff at my ancestral home, and especially not to Jean or Sarah, but my language had gotten - what's the word? - 'colorful', to put it mildly.

Mind you, I'd never been above swearing, but then again I hadn't routinely referred to a sticky wine cork as a "goddam motherfucking tree-turd" either. I think Jean was getting worried, and I couldn't have that.

Besides, there was simply no reason for it that I could see.

Jean had been gracious about going with me and helping me pick out a suit, and had not complained about getting one made for herself. She actually seemed to enjoy it, and the outfits were perfect, elegant without being fussy, classy yet not severe. Just right. Even the artist loved my outfit, and the initial sittings had gone very well, or so he promised. He was one of those artists that wouldn't let you look until it was done. I didn't like that, but you don't hire an expert and then tell him how to do his job.

Besides, if he fucked it up I'd hex his goddam bollocks off.

See? That right there is what I mean.

The dinner had gone very well, and I had felt a little thrill when we were introduced as - "Her Grace, the Countess of Lancaster, Pansy Plantagenet Parkinson and Miss Hermione Jean Granger."

I actually thought that I could feel the approval of my grandmother and a whole host of ancestors, and that was nice, even if some of them had been right bastards.

Her Royal Hiney herself had showed up, and had privately told me that she felt it time for my title to be acknowledged openly, and not just by the treaty. We agreed that a discreet address to the House of Lords and a supplement to Burke's Peerage would suffice, along with a short notice in the "Times". Anyone who cared would find it in one of those places. This had been a dream of my grandmother's, and it felt good to see it realized.

Jean had been fascinated by the history of the place, and Uncle Winston, who wasn't really my uncle, but the steward, had been pleased to give her the exclusive tour, including the private gallery that had paintings of nearly my entire line, even some back before it.

"Who is this woman?" Jean asked, staring at one of the portraits, 'she is remarkably beautiful, there is such strength, such character in her face..."

"The likeness is true," I told her, "that's my grandmother. She looks more like a Plantagenet than I do. And she was a noblewoman in the best sense of the word," I added quietly.

"Indeed, Your Grace," Uncle Winston agreed, "but she often told me that the truest, the best part of the line, had been reborn in you. Pardon my boldness in agreeing with her."

Shit like that made me nervous. These people thought that I was something I wasn't, and that just meant that I had to try harder. Jean was beaming at me, though, and that was nice, but I couldn't think of an adequate reply.

"Who is that?" Jean asked suddenly, even going so far as to point.

"That, Mistress Jean, is reputed to be a portrait of Morgan le Fay," Uncle Winston informed her.

"She looks like you," Jean said to me in shock.

"Or I look like her," I corrected, "it's no big deal, even if it is her. She's likely related to you too, she was generous in her affections."

I was on my best behaviour, Uncle Winston did not need to hear the new Countess saying that her maybe ancestor had fucked around a lot, but that's what it amounted to. I guess I got more from her than looks.

So the whole thing went great, the staff all loved Jean, and the Queen had been great, and my Slytherin heart was gratified when Her Majesty had gushed over the baked goods.

That had made me nervous too, bringing Sarah in to do the baking. The bakers and pastry chefs at the estate had been there for generations, and were renowned in their own rights. I had asked a favor of them, which of course they had to grant, but Sarah had won them over in an afternoon.

She had respectfully asked to be allowed to make a few things for their approval, ranging from puff pastry to scones, to a hearty loaf, and of course, hot cross buns. By the end of the evening they were taking notes, and the head chef advised me to hire her on the spot.

He didn't know that she was already sort of working for me.

The renovations on the bakery had come off under budget and ahead of time, and Sarah had hired skilled and reliable help, and business was good. The shiny new Royal Warrant in the window didn't hurt a thing there.

Even Bertram had been impressed, and whenever he entertained, Sarah did the baking personally.

Sarah loved her flat, and her bath, and she _really_ loved the shampoo I gave her in her welcome basket. Sarah also had some very attractive and enthusiastic company on occasion. Jean even watched with me sometimes, and that always made her decide that her hair was dirty, so -

I didn't have anything to be angry about, really.

But I was undoubtedly pissed off, and I was afraid that Jean was getting worried, and I was afraid that Jean was getting fed up with me, and so of course I was afraid that Jean would leave, and I started thinking of my little bottle again, and that pissed me off even more.

Shit, I was so pissed off that I was even wondering if the stuff would work if I unstoppered the bottle and shoved it up my -

I was really fuckin' royally pissed off, and I could be that now, pretty much literally. Soon I was going to be screaming "off with his head!" or some shit like that.

Maybe I could drink the shit and then cram the bottle somewhere before I died.

Fuck it, it wasn't fair, and it didn't make sense. I had pretty much everything I wanted, but apart from brief moments with Jean or Sarah I just wasn't happy.

Maybe Derrick knew of a fight club I could join.

Derrick is my chauffeur, I got him from grandmother too, along with the cars in the basement. I hadn't used the cars much, since they weren't what you'd call subtle. Since taking up my title, though, I sort of had to use them when I was traveling on business since some things are expected, and sometimes doing the expected helps things along, makes people feel more comfortable.

Not really very Slytherin of me, I admit.

Jean had sat her UKCATs before the dinner, and the results had come a few days afterward. She was shocked when she saw that she had top marks. I was not.

Come to it, maybe that was part of what had me so angry. Jean's parents had not communicated at all. Not once. We had talked about her problems with her parents, about how they were scared of her now and resentful of the way that Jean had sort of rewritten their lives.

Stupid fools.

I was aware that they knew how to communicate with her, they'd done it easily enough when she was at Hogwarts, and she had let them know where to send any messages, she told me she had.

She had sent them weekly letters for a while but after no response the shadow just settled in her eyes and she stopped doing that.

They had not even contacted her after I sent them her test scores anonymously.

Since I was already pissed off, the day that Jean went for her interview at King's College seemed as good a time as any to vent on someone that had it coming.

The interview, of course, was a formality. Actually it was more like the faculty and administration all wanted to meet the rock star that wanted to go to their school. I had stayed strictly out of things since arranging the test. Jean was just stubborn enough to chuck the whole thing if she thought that I had used my influence to get her admitted.

That explained why the interview was on a Sunday. Everybody wanted to meet her. That also made things easy for me since the Grangers were typically home on Sundays.

I did not call or write in advance of my visit. I was counting on the fact that Jean had said her mum kept Burke's Peerage on the table in the sitting room to get me in the door.

Countess Pansy was going calling.

I wore my "christening suit", and Derrick had the big car all shined up for the occasion. It was one of those big old Rolls with the square radiator and the naked chick with wings on top of it, and it was pretty impressive if such things impressed you. I liked some of the other cars better, but I was going for effect here.

"You look splendid, Your Grace," Derrick greeted me.

I had tried to get him to call me Pansy, but he turned green at the suggestion, so I'd given up. I just thanked him and got in the back seat, and the old car glided eerily up the ramp and onto the street.

When we reached Jean's parent's house, Derrick went to the door with my card on a silver tray and asked Jean's mum if she and her husband were home to the Countess of Lancaster.

"To what do we owe this unexpected honor, Your Grace?" her father asked me after the bowing and curtseying was done. Credit where it's due, the both of them knew how to greet a peeress properly.

Too bad for them that I wasn't exactly a proper peeress.

"Your daughter, Jean," I said plainly.

"Jean?" her mother asked, momentarily confused.

"Yes, Jean. Have you forgotten the name you gave her as well as forgetting her?" I said, with more Slytherin showing than nobility.

"I don't understand, Your Grace," her father said, and the furrow on his brow was so like the one on Jean's that I momentarily lost my ability to speak.

They didn't look evil. They looked remarkably normal, and there was a shadow in their eyes too.

And there was so much of the woman I loved in both of them that I could feel my rage turning to pity and then to pain.

Damn love. I had come to flay them, and now I was going to have to try and heal them.

"Please pardon my rudeness," I said softly, "may we sit? I have much to tell you."

"Certainly, Your Grace," she said, and she indicated the way to the sitting room.

It was a nice room, and sure enough Burke's Peerage was on the table.

"Shall we have tea?" she asked when I had taken a seat.

"Frankly, Dr. Granger, I would prefer something stronger, and although it is a tad early, you might as well. As I said, I have much to tell you, and I suppose that I might as well begin by telling you that your daughter and I are in love."

"Single malt or gin, Your Grace?" her father said.

"Single malt, Dr. Granger, and thank you." He went to a sideboard and produced a bottle and glasses. I was pleased that he did not suggest water or ice.

"How do you know our daughter, Your Grace, if I may ask?" Mrs. Granger asked.

"This will be easier if you call me Pansy," I told them, and I tasted the scotch. "Excellent stuff, thank you." Jean's dad inclined his head in acknowledgement and they waited for me to speak again.

"I went to school with Jean," I began, and I could see the fear flash across their faces.

"So - so you're a witch like our Hermione, then?" Mrs. Granger asked.

"I am a witch, yes, but not like Jean. There have been few witches in all history like her. To save time, I know all about what she did to protect you during the war, and I know how that has driven a wedge between you. I also know more than even she does about how necessary it was that she do it, and I know a great deal more than you do about what an extraordinary thing that it was she did."

I took a sip of scotch, it really was good, and I paused to arrange my thoughts.

"My father was firmly on the side opposite your daughter in the war. You do know something about the war that occasioned Jean's actions, right?" They nodded.

"Whatever you know, it was worse than that. Much worse," I paused and sucked on the whiskey. I had come intending to bludgeon them with the truth about what would have happened to them, and all Muggles, if he-who-eats-shit had won, but now I was having to be more gentle, because however stupid they were being they had still created her.

"I heard things. The two of you were targeted specifically. Had she not done what she did, you would both be dead. Killed more horribly than you can imagine." I had a whole graphic speech about what had been done to Muggles, but I couldn't use it now.

"Why would this Voldemort target us?" Jean's dad asked.

"Because you are Muggles, and because of your daughter, yes. But for her you might have escaped notice. For a time, anyway." I sipped the scotch, so did they, it didn't seem early any longer.

"You were targeted because they feared her, and they were right to fear her. Hiding that fear behind contempt for her heritage doesn't change that. If not for her, the world as you know it would be gone. You would have been horribly murdered along with thousands of others, and those surviving would be slaves."

"Surely it wasn't so bad as all that..." her father murmured.

"Oh, it was worse than that, I just don't have your daughter's gifts. I cannot adequately describe it. This is really good scotch, thank you," I told him.

"Let's all have another then," Jean's mum suggested.

"I know this is a lot to take in," I told them. "Frankly, I came here to berate you for the pain you have caused her. I meant to beat you bloody with the truth of what she went through to save you, and I promise you that there have been very few witches or wizards who could have done what she did, much less perceive the need to do it."

More scotch.

"After the war, she tried to fix things, make them better for everyone, but without an obvious threat those in power refused to listen, to see. They paid no attention to the warnings she gave them, too concerned with their own comfort and privilege to listen to the woman who had, perhaps more than any other, saved them."

"That nearly broke her, it even led her to reject the name that she was known by, and it was the best day of my existence when I happened upon her by chance and she became part of my life. The biggest part. The best part. The only part I cannot live without."

I tossed off the rest of the scotch and stared into the glass.

"Without her there would be no Countess of Lancaster. There would be no Doctor and Doctor Granger, either. The three of us, and countless others would be rotting in the sun, or whatever sun we get here."

"I came here today to accuse you, to force you to see what you have done to the most wonderful person I have ever known, but I can't do that now. I see too much of her in you. I came because of the pain you have caused her, because I hated to see that shadow in her eyes. I came because I felt sorry for her, sorry that she had lost your love and trust."

I held out my glass and Jean's father topped it off in silence.

"But now I feel sorry for the two of you, because you are letting your fear deprive you of your daughter. I can understand the fear, Jean is one of the most powerful and skilled witches in all history, but you need to understand that the two of you are a big reason that she is so powerful. She came from you, after all."

"She's interviewing at King's College today. They are going to give her the place, and she is going to be the best dentist there has ever been. Likely she will go on to teach, she has always loved to teach." I pulled a pen from my purse and scrawled my name and title across the cover of Burke's Peerage.

"We're not very different, you and I," I told them, "I don't really deserve her either. But I can see that you love her, and I hope that you can find the courage to let her know that before it's too late."

I stared at them while they finished their drinks, and then I tossed mine off and set the glass on the table.

"The address is on the card, I'll let myself out. Thanks for the scotch."


	20. Chapter 20

Author: Lash_Larue  
Title: "Eventual Envelopment" Chapter 20 of 21

Pairing: Jean/Pansy  
Rating: PG13

Highlight for warning * Some bad language *

Word Count: 2760

Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling

A/N: It looks very like the next chapter will close this one out. My thanks to those of you who have read and reviewed.

"Eventual Envelopment"

Chapter 20

"Incipient Incorporation"

Harry Potter was coming to dinner. I learned about this when I returned from a morning of lambing. I had wanted to observe at least some of the lambing since the sheep were one of the businesses of the estate, and had been surprised that I got caught up in it.

The quiet dignity of the ewes in labor, the first shaky steps of the newborns, even the rare tragedy, all of that brought the tradition home to me, and I felt like a real part of it. The shepherds had been surprised to see me, even more surprised when I leant a hand, and downright stunned when I proved to be of use.

I think they all appreciated my being there and helping, perhaps even the sheep, and I left after lunch feeling pretty good about the flock, the shepherds, and myself.

So it was a pretty good time for Jean to tell me that Harry was coming to dinner that evening. Not a great time, mind, but I couldn't see when that would have been, anyway, so...

And it was her, and I knew that she was likely nervous about it too, but for different reasons. So I went with my stock answer.

"Okay."

"You're sure?" she asked.

"I'm sure that it's okay for him to come, I'm not sure at all how things will go. Oh, am I supposed to be here? Does he know about us?"

"He knows that I have been living with you, yes, and he knows that you will be here. I don't know if he knows about us, it didn't seem necessary to mention it, though if he asks I'll surely tell him. I don't think he's spoken to mum and dad, either. He just sent an owl asking if he could come and talk to me about some things," she answered me.

"What things?"

"He wasn't specific, but I'm sure it has to do with the House-elves and other non and part-human sentients. You've heard the rumbles just like I have."

That much was true, and back when Jean had suggested it I had told mum that she would do well to free the family elves and offer them employment. Two of the three had accepted while the third expressed content with the way things were. Mum had begun paying him anyway, and set up an account for him at Gringotts. But there had indeed been rumblings, and even though we did not take the "Prophet" nor communicate regularly with the magical world we knew that things were changing.

But that was no longer our world.

Nonetheless, Harry Potter was coming to dinner.

"I can get takeout from Ananda's" I suggested, "I'm assuming that Sarah won't be here."

"No, that wouldn't be a good idea, I think. I've started spaghetti, it's easy and we still have a new loaf of Italian bread from Sarah. That should do for Harry."

"Fair enough, I'll just go scrub the last bits of afterbirth out from under my nails and then I'll make a salad."

"Oh! How did the lambing go? I should have asked first thing," she exclaimed, clearly embarrassed.

"It was interesting, and I don't think I got in the way too badly. We had two dozen births this morning, 5 of those were twins, and we lost a lamb and one ewe. They assured me that this was a pretty good morning, although the loss of the ewe was not expected." I guess I had a funny look on my face because Jean wrapped her arms around me.

That was nice, more than nice, really, and I just let her hold me for a while. We touched more often now, we were growing more comfortable with that. We still had our own rooms, and we went out now and then, but neither of us felt the need to pick up anyone. And there was the mirror, and for me at least that was better than anyone but Sarah.

Sometimes Sarah would come up for dinner and we'd stay up late and drink too much and wind up in the tub and then wake up in the morning like a teaspoon a soup spoon and a grapefruit spoon. Sarah was the grapefruit spoon, and she was always in the middle, and it was always warm and comforting, and it was a friendship unlike any I had ever had.

Jean and I had noticed that the same woman had been showing up with Sarah in the mirror on a recurrent basis, and we were both hoping that would go somewhere good for Sarah.

It didn't occur to us that we would lose her to Rachel, that was her name, Rachel, because what we had with Sarah was too different, too special to be threatened by anything.

Whether or not there would ever be four spoons was not something we discussed.

Jean was in her third term at King's College now, and was firmly ensconced at the top of her class. I had sent her parents a copy of her first term marks, not anonymously this time, and they had sent her flowers and a very nice letter of congratulations. Jean had stared at the thing until her tears had the ink all runny.

After that things had begun to warm up between Jean and her parents. It wasn't fixed yet, but they had had us to dinner a few times and our relationship had been a minor matter in the face of the other things that were broken between Jean and her folks, but they loved each other and I had hopes that eventually that would prove to be enough.

Together we were slowly expanding our world.

But Harry Potter was coming to dinner, and I was still the girl who had tried to serve him up on a platter. I was so nervous and uncertain that I didn't even watch Jean shower.

There was no fireplace, and I wasn't about to alter the wards to let Harry Apparate in, so we met him at the main entrance and took him up in the lift. The trip was made in a fairly awkward silence.

"Nice place," Harry said, looking around.

"Thanks," we both said, and Harry arched a brow, but he did not comment.

"Would you like a drink, Harry?" I asked him.

"God yes," he said earnestly, and right then occurred the first ever smile between Harry Potter and Pansy Parkinson. It was a shaky little thing, but it was encouraging, and I could see Jean relax.

"Sit down with Jean and I'll fetch things. Wine or hard stuff? We have pretty much anything."

"Stout?" he asked hopefully.

"Room temp or cold?"

"Cold, I'm a heretic," Harry replied, and I smiled again. Maybe he wouldn't kill me after all. If it came to that, I knew he'd kill me; I was pants at dueling, certainly nowhere near his class, but I had Jean if he got froggy.

I headed for the cooler, and I could hear them talking.

"You're more than just chums, I take it," Harry asked.

"Yes, much more. We're both sort of broken, Harry, but together we're healing. She's marvelous, truly, and she is doing so many wonderful things, you can't imagine. She's saved more than my life, Harry, I can't even begin to explain what she is to me."

"But you're happy? You're good for each other?"

"Without a doubt," Jean told him.

I had to blow my nose, I think I was allergic to Potter. I had to wipe my eyes too, the man was like ragweed, honestly.

"So what's with the 'Jean', then?" Harry had asked her, and she had explained to him how she had come to claim that name.

It was nice to see them together, nice to see that the friendship they shared had survived Jean leaving Harry's world. It was a palpable thing, that friendship, and I was glad they had it. I was also less jealous of it than I would have imagined. The love Jean had for Harry took nothing from the love she had for me, and it dawned on me that I might even have another friend where I had least expected to find one.

I thought idly about performing a gender-changing spell and introducing him to Sarah, but it might have been too late for that. But I did think that Harry would make a pretty girl. Sometimes, if you hung on long enough, and just let it happen, good things showed up on your doorstep. I wasn't yet sure that Potter was one of those things, but I had a good feeling about it.

I delivered the drinks, and after a few swallows Harry started talking.

"Well, it happened just like you said it would. The House-elves were first. They just disappeared. Virtually every House-elf who had not been voluntarily freed just Apparated away one night. It seems that perhaps someone came up with a potion that broke the enchantment that had been holding them." Harry looked at Jean with a question on his face.

"It was bound to happen, and I doubt that a potion was required. You know how powerful elf magic is, Harry. It just needed a spark, and I daresay that Dobby provided that," she responded calmly.

"Perhaps, and Kreacher had a hand in it as well. Of course you know that I freed him long ago, but he seemed to want to stay. He did take the salary I offered him though. Anyway, the elves disappeared, and I admit that it was funny as anything watching people try and take care of themselves. There was a lot of outrage and shouting, but the elves were just gone, so no one could do anything," Harry explained.

"I sense there is more to the story," Jean prompted.

"Right, well, the Veela and the Centaurs formed an alliance, and they refused to stay within the small areas that the various ministries had designated for them. The wizards sent to enforce those restrictions met with fierce resistance, and there were casualties on both sides."

"What about you, Harry, were you involved in that?" she asked him.

"I was sent to sort out the Hogwarts bunch, along with Ron and some others. But thanks to you I had sense enough to ask to talk first, and Bane remembered me, and so we talked. He made it plain that as far as they were concerned that wizards had no right to dictate to either Veela or Centaurs where they could dwell, and whether or not they revealed themselves to the Muggle world. I had to admit that he was right, regardless of what the Min said, and most of the other aurors agreed with me, so we went back and told the Minister to piss off."

"No shit?" I couldn't help asking, because I thought that was fucking awesome.

"Promise," Harry said. "It was funny, really, he tried to have us arrested but there was no one to do it, and things got out of hand until the person who is now the new Minister stepped in and straightened things out. Well, at least well enough to stop the killing. The Wizengamot looks quite different now. There are environments for merpeople, as well as other accommodations for non-human members."

"Really!" exclaimed Jean. "That's marvelous! Who is the new Minister and however did they get this done?"

"As to how, well, they just went off at an emergency session and explained in flawless English how the cow ate the cabbage, so to speak. Reminded them all that you had told them for _years_ that this was coming. And then they told them in very short words how stupid they had all been, and then explained in well-reasoned detail what would happen to them all if they did not acknowledge that times had changed, and followed that up with a one-time offer to clear the mess up provided they all "Just shut the fuck up whinging and pay attention for once in their bloody, over-privileged lives". I have to say that I stood up and applauded. I never saw the match of it," Harry told us, his eyes sparkling with awed respect.

"Whoever was it?" Jean asked, "did Kingsley come back, or Aberforth, perhaps?"

"Nope," Harry said, still grinning.

"McGonagall?" I tried, because I knew she had it in her.

"Nope. Give up?" Harry asked again.

"I can always just buy a copy of the "Prophet", Harry," Jean said.

"True enough. Very well, it was Percy," Harry said simply.

"Percy Weasley?" I couldn't help but ask.

"One and the same. I was surprised too, but Percy had it chapter and verse, the whole history of how this had come to be, and a clear outline of what had to happen to avoid another war, and how it would benefit all involved parties. Ron stayed drunk for three days after, just couldn't wrap his head around it."

"And now?" Jean asked.

"Ron's a deputy head now, I'm finishing out this year and then I'm going to play Quidditch. I've had enough too, Her - er - Jean. I figure I deserve the chance to suit myself for a while," Harry told her.

"What about Ginny?" Jean asked.

"Still chasing for the Harpies. She and I are done, though, but we're still friendly. I was kind of hoping to take you up on your offer to sleep with me, but I can see I'm too late there." He glanced over at me. "No hexing, all right? I didn't know before I got here."

"No hexing, Harry," I promised him. "Just as long as it goes both ways."

"Done. May I have another?" he asked, holding up the empty bottle.

"We can do better than that," I informed him.

I never imagined that I would have so much fun with two Gryffindors. We ate too much, drank _way_ too much, and we talked into the morning hours about damn near everything and we learned a lot about each other before Harry got his wish to sleep with Jean. If you can count passing out on the floor between the two of us as sleeping.

Jean had nodded off too, and I sat there for a while and stared at the Chosen One. He looked young, just a kid with messy hair whose shoulders looked far too frail to have borne the weight they had. Harry fucking Potter, just another person not unlike me. He had his own set of problems and his own disappointments and heartbreaks and I discovered that I was truly sorry for having added whatever little bit to them that I had.

What the hell, he was asleep, and so was Jean, so I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. "Thanks, Harry," I whispered, and I snuggled against his side like Jean had already done and let my eyes close.

There were no dreams, and I didn't wake up sticky with anything other than the stuff in my eyes; but all things being said, I have had worse nights.

Many of them, in fact.

We woke up a bit sore from sleeping propped against the couch, but otherwise it wasn't uncomfortable at all. Nobody even felt the need to make a joke about us sleeping together. I showed Harry to the guest bath, and Jean and I went and washed up and put on some fresh clothes. We could hear the shower running in the guest bath while we worked on breakfast.

Harry walked in with his hair still damp, but it really didn't look much different.

"Thanks for the shower, Pansy," he said, and I smiled at him.

Really, this was weird, and even weirder that it wasn't _more_ weird. It was like because Harry was a part of Jean's life that he was now kind of a part of mine too.

Weird.

But kind of nice, it was like parts of my heart that hadn't been used in years, maybe never, were stirring to life and finding that there was something in the world for them after all.

Jean and Harry could feel it too, I could tell, that or something like it, and I realized that they had shuttered places inside them as well. Maybe everybody did. Maybe we needed to acknowledge that.

Maybe the breakfast that we shared together so comfortably meant that we already had.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt too bad to let life wrap around me some.

Maybe I should start letting it do that.

Maybe.


	21. Chapter 21

Author: Lash_Larue  
Title: "Eventual Envelopment" Chapter 21 of 21

Pairing: Jean/Pansy  
Rating: NC17

Warning * Very graphic sex, Rough sex, Anal, Mild BDSM *

Word Count: 3475

Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling

A/N: First, believe the rating and read the warnings. It might not be your cup of tea.

This winds it up, and I thank you for coming along. This one took me to some surprising places, and so perhaps I learned some things. My thanks to K8ydid for suggesting this, and to Charles Bukowski, whose rough diamond of a poem set me to thinking. No one, of course, is responsible for where I went other than me.

"Eventual Envelopment"

Chapter 21

"Enveloped"

The estate businesses were flourishing, and the people I was responsible for were usually satisfied, and were also secure enough to let me know when they were not. The bakery was thriving, and the tea room was one of the most popular in London. It would be Sarah's sooner than I had thought. Rachel was already hers, and both of them were regular dinner guests. They had us down to their place as well. Harry came sometimes, alone or with a date, usually Luna Lovegood, and she seemed to be really good for him. We had a few more friends now, and they helped. I was still sometimes startled to realize that people actually liked me.

We kept going together, Jean and I, and there were good days and bad ones. Sometimes I'd find myself sitting on the edge of my bed staring at my little bottle for no real reason. The big difference was that now I really believed that there was no good reason, that my life was better than it had ever been, better than I had ever imagined that it would be.

Jean continued to astonish everyone but me with her work at King's. Her relationship with her parents was continuing to improve, but I could tell that it was fragile. So was she, and the insufferable know-it-all part of her was dead and buried. Sometimes I kind of missed it, but I was so in love with who she was and who she was becoming that the wonder of the new far outweighed the nostalgia for the old.

We each had our ghosts and our doubts and our demons, but now we each had real and solid things in our lives. We also had each other, and I had come to trust in her love for me more than anything in life. She maybe had more to work through to really trust that I loved her, or maybe that was just my own fears creeping in trying to screw things up.

Frankly, if we never took that last step I would take what we had over anything I'd ever heard of.

Eventually, it just happened, and when it did it was like I had been standing on a hilltop in a thunderstorm my entire life, begging for the lightning to strike, never really believing that it would. But then it did, and I swear my bones glowed yellow-white from the heat of it.

I was in that moment just before falling deeply asleep, right on that edge where you wonder just for an instant if what you think you heard or saw or felt was real or just a dream's way of announcing its presence.

I felt the bed shift a little, and heard the sheets rustling, and then she was with me, her soft warmth pressing against my back, her mouth nibbling little kisses from my shoulder up to my neck while her hand slid over my hip and up my belly, over my ribs and up to cup my breast.

Her thumb brushed back and forth over my nipple, her tongue traced the shell of my ear. Her tits flattened against my back, spreading out from the pressure of her embrace. It was real, I knew it was real and I didn't have even an instant of fear, no moment of 'are you sure?', because it was real and she was squeezing my tit and her teeth were fastened in the flesh right where my shoulder became my neck, and she was grinding her cunt on my ass and it was just too late for fear or doubt because the feeling was spreading like a grass fire in a high wind.

"Please let me," I asked, and I turned in her embrace and rolled her onto her back.

I reached for my wand and muttered a spell and the walls glowed softly, bathing us in light like a full moon on a cloudless night. I threw the top sheet off the bed and sat astride her, the swell of her belly warm against my cunt, the width of her hips holding me open, and for a long moment I simply stared into her eyes while the heat pooled low in my groin and the wet spilled over onto her.

Then I started memorizing her, all of her, all over again. I was going to find all the little places I hadn't seen in the mirror. I was going to touch every bit of her, burn every little detail of her into my senses forever.

My hands were shaking when I buried my fingers in her hair, feeling the cool thickness of it slide through my fingers when I spread it out around her head. I pressed my face into the hair, slid up and rubbed it on my tits, pulled it until a little sound came from her.

I ran my fingertips over her forehead, and felt her eyes flutter closed as I passed my curious touch over the fragile skin, felt the brush of her eyelashes. I put my palm against her cheek and turned her head to the side, staring at the way a few strands of hair curled against her neck, running my fingers along her jaw line. Her lips parted when I traced them with the tip of a finger, and when I pulled down on her lower lip her tongue flicked out to touch my finger and I caught it and held it, feeling the slick heat of the thing between my fingers, the texture of it, before I let it go and wrapped my hands around her throat.

She rolled her head back to let me get a better grip, and I could feel the thunder of her pulse, feel her throat move as she swallowed. I squeezed a little and she smiled and licked her lips, telling me that if that was what I wanted, that I could have that too. I had always imagined that when this time arrived for us that she would come to me, and she had, but I had thought that we would act hesitantly, uncertainly, even somewhat frightened.

But there could be no fear between us, no uncertainty, and there was no need to hesitate because both of us were willing, no, eager, to give what the other wanted, whatever that might be.

I had memorized the freckles across her nose before, but I checked now to make sure they hadn't changed. I followed her collarbones then, and touched the hollow just above them, cupped her shoulders in my hands, and then moved to kneel beside her.

I stretched out her arm, feeling the softness of her skin, seeing the faint shadow of stubble in her armpit and touching the little flat mole there. I could barely feel the fine dark hair on her forearms and I spread her fingers apart and poked at the little web of skin that stretched between the bases of them, skimmed over the lines in her palm. I flexed her arm, noting how her elbow moved slightly past straight, like her arm was bent just a little bit.

Stuff was running down the inside of my thighs now, and I could smell the familiar scent of my arousal, and something else, similar but different, and I knew that it was her.

Her breathing was deeper now, and I saw her thighs rubbing together slowly. There was a wet shine along her slit, what I could see of it when her legs moved, but it wasn't time for that so I reached down and pulled her legs apart just a bit. I slapped her thigh, telling it to stay put, she hissed, and her eyes snapped open. She licked her lips and smiled, and my thighs got wetter. I looked down and could see the stuff dripping from me, and her eyes followed mine and she smiled again and I knew I wasn't going to be able to take all the time I wanted to with this. Not this time.

I wet a hand in myself and rubbed it over one of her breasts. On her back like she was, her breasts spread out and spilled over. They were soft and heavy and her areolas were large and just a little puffy and the skin right there was even softer than it was on the rest of her breast so I circled my fingers around her nipple, feeling the softness before I took the nipple between my fingers and squeezed. I twisted and pulled, and her eyes drifted closed and a moan came from down around her belly somewhere so I pulled harder, and her back came off the bed and her teeth sank into her bottom lip when I rolled the pink-tipped bit of her between my fingers.

Her tit bounced when I released it, and she let out a gasp when I slapped it lightly and she said the first word she had said since she had crawled into my bed and enveloped me.

"Harder," she hissed, and my hand left a faint red print on the snowy skin.

Her hips were rocking; her cunt was hungry for attention. So was mine, but neither one of them was going to get it. Not yet they weren't, so I didn't move astride her because I knew if I did that I'd rub off on her in an instant and the ache between my legs wasn't bad enough, not yet. I saw her legs starting to drift closed again, so I slapped her thigh a little harder and they popped back open and this purring sound came from her that turned into a hiss when I bent over and tried to swallow one of her tits.

I didn't come close, I could barely get all of her areola into my mouth, but it was soft enough that I could just manage by sucking really hard. My tongue was shoved back against my throat and I was having trouble breathing so I let her slide out of my mouth until I could feel her nipple with my tongue and my teeth closed on it without me thinking about it.

"Yeeessssss..." Jean moaned, and her hands tore at my hair, sending little sparks of bright pleasure-pain through my scalp and down between my legs.

I remembered the dream I'd had the first time Sarah had slept with us, and I grabbed my wand and cast binding spells and her eyes lit up and she gave me this lazy grin, like she knew what was on my mind and liked it. Like she could take anything I gave her and make me want more of her, and I hadn't really wanted our first time to be like this. I had wanted it to be tender, gentle and thorough and overwhelming and lovemaking as opposed to raw sex. But the lovemaking had been going on for years now. We made love every morning when she fixed my breakfast, when she shared herself in the mirror, accepting that part of me too. We made love every second of every day while I tried to turn myself into someone fit to stand beside her, and even though I knew I'd never be good enough it didn't matter any longer because she wanted me and loved me, and I wanted and loved her, and we both knew it now because it was all around us.

I was careful not to touch her as I moved between her widespread legs; I knelt there staring into her eyes, breathing in the scent of us both. I could see it in her eyes, the certain knowledge of how much I loved her, how much I wanted her.

When the want is strong enough, it's the same thing as a need, at least to me it is.

She could see me shaking, hear me panting for breath. She was bound and helpless and she was in complete control and she knew it, and she smiled.

"I thought you didn't want to fuck me, baby," she said in a low voice.

"I don't want to," I explained, "I need to."

Her eyes filled, shining with emotion.

"I need it too, Pansy, so fuck me like you _mean_ it," she demanded.

My fingers spread her open, rolling and tugging on her lips. She was flooding, and her clit was protruding pink among the other colors of her lips and the dark hair now matted with something much better than the ice-blue lather. She contracted strongly when I touched her clit and a glistening hot stream ran down between her cheeks.

I rubbed her clit slowly, pressing harder, sliding it between my fingers like it was a little cock and she pumped her hips, fucking my fingers. I pinched her hard, the sudden pain stopping her from coming. A flicker of irritation crossed her face, but that vanished when my finger entered her.

She sucked it into herself, and everywhere inside of her was alive, clinging to my finger, milking it. If I slid my finger to the side it was still surrounded by her. No matter how fast I moved it there was this soft but relentless grip that never slackened.

I could feel the squeezes getting stronger, and I heard the change in her breathing that let me know she was about to come but it was too soon, so I slapped one of her tits pretty hard.

That was the wrong thing to do to stop her from coming.

Her body went rigid, and shook, and the grip on my finger tightened and she was coming, so I bent down and ran my tongue from where my finger was sliding in and out of her up to her clit and I sucked on it while she came. She shuddered and cried out, and I left my finger inside of her and licked her while the aftershocks rippled through her.

She was boneless now, and I used my tongue to catch the rush of juices when I pulled my finger out of her. I bathed all of her down there. I released the binding so I could get her legs over my shoulders and raise her hips to follow the trail wherever it went.

I heard her gasp when my tongue found the puckered little opening between her cheeks and I spread them apart to gain better access.

I wanted every part of her, and while I was not afraid that this would be my last chance I just could-not-stop and I could feel her arousal building again when she drew her knees up to her chest and whimpered.

She groaned when my finger probed her bottom. There was no need for a lubrication spell, there was slick stuff everywhere. If I ran out of hers I had plenty of my own and by the time I had worked my finger into her ass she was moaning again and I left it there and stuck my tongue in her cunt knowing the spells would take care of the cleaning issues.

I glanced up at her and she was squeezing her tits so hard that I knew there would be bruises and the thought of purple finger marks on that soft skin only made me hotter. Then her eyes found mine.

"More, fuck me more," Jean said in a tone that was closer to begging than ordering and I knew she was really ready now so I pushed three fingers into her all at once and she easily took them in.

I could feel my fingers inside her, the finger in her ass feeling the in and out of the ones in her cunt and so I moved them together and Jean rose to meet them and yelled "harder" and "more" until I felt like I was all the way inside her, completely enveloped, all of me, my tongue just soaking in her, and then she was screaming and riding my face and fingers and yanking my hair to pull me to her, and I could feel my own cunt squeeze shut on nothing and there were stars and angels singing and then there was nothing at all.

When I was alive again my cheek was resting on her cunt and I could see teeth marks on her inner thigh and feel her stroking my hair and it was the best thing ever. Ever.

She gave my hair a little tug and I crawled up beside her and she held me and kissed my eyes, my cheeks, my ears, even my damn stupid nose. She told me that she loved me and she thanked me for loving her and then she dragged her tongue down my neck and over to one of my tits and damn if she couldn't get the whole thing in her mouth.

My nipples were puckered little things, hard and longing, and she sucked them and licked them and pulled them with her teeth and I came again, my back rising from the bed as I pushed against her.

I was trembling and gasping for breath, but she knew me, she knew I wasn't done and she kind of gnawed her way down my belly and then she opened her mouth wide and my cunt was covered in wet heat. Her tongue pushed into me, I was already open, swollen and slick and hungry for what she was giving me. Finally, finally I was giving her my body and she was taking it eagerly and I cried in joy and ecstasy while she fucked me and ate me and I came again with that wonderful hair in my hands and with my wonderful Jean inside me where she belonged, and she knew just what to do, just what to do, just what – to – do…

I felt cool air on my lower body and I looked down between my legs to see her smiling at me, her face was covered in me and she looked happy and content.

"You taste like my shampoo," she whispered, looking into my eyes with her chin resting gently on my pubes.

Then she opened her mouth wide and devoured me, and I died again.

I didn't come. I came a thousand times. It hurt. It felt good. I was silent. I screamed out her name. I saw nothing. I saw everything. I owned her. I belonged to her. I was dead. I was immortal.

I-

She -

ohgod.

I awoke in the dark, and she was warm and substantial and wrapped all around me.

I lay perfectly still and absolutely silent while I soaked my pillow with tears.

I was still crying silently when she woke up and kissed me.

I could taste both of us on her lips and tongue.

It tasted like my shampoo.

XXXXX

_She thinks that I believe that she is asleep. She almost never is. I know full well that she feels it when I leave our bed. I move as quietly as I can, so as not to wake her, so that she can pretend to be asleep. I always stumble in the bath when I get dressed, just in case she hasn't woken. I dress quietly and tiptoe around to her side of the bed, and look at her with love, and longing, and gratitude, and the promise of the future, because I know that she can feel it, and because it is the same look that I see on her face when she looks at me. I kiss her softly before I leave._

_She is my partner, my lover, my life, and this is my favorite time of the day. It is perhaps my favorite part of life, better than food, better than drink, better in some ways than sex, even with her, and sex with her makes me hear angels singing._

_It is my favorite part of the day, because it is the time that I let her know beyond all doubt that I love her, really love her, really want to be with her. People, all of us, are full of shit. We try and show the people who are important to us for whatever reason, what they want to see. All of us do this, whether we admit it or not. It is what we do when no one can see us that reveals who we truly are, and what happens at this time of day is how I let her know that beyond all doubt, beyond all right or reason, that I love her, and want to be nowhere else on earth other than by her side, and that I believe in her love for me._

_She is Pansy Parkinson, I am Jean Granger, and our story is just beginning._


End file.
